Daddy's Home

Chapter Two

Jasmine’s breath came in short, uneasy gasps. Her head swirled with emotion. To have to see Christopher again, to face not only what he’d done to her heart, but to her family, was enough to daunt the strongest of women. But to have him waltz into town and demand to see his child with all the arrogance of the perfect father was positively the last straw.

Anger welled in her chest.

“What right do you have to demand anything?” she growled through clenched teeth, willing her throbbing heart to slow before it beat a hole through her chest.

Christopher pulled the hat down low over his brows and leaned toward her, his posture firm and menacing. For a minute he just stared at her, the ice in his gaze freezing her insides. When he finally spoke, it was in a whisper. “I’m his father, Jazz.”

His voice cracked on her name, and for the briefest moment, she saw a flicker of pain cross his gaze, so deep and intense she almost felt sorry for him.

Without even realizing what she was doing, she reached out a hand to stroke his strong jaw, then withdrew it just as quickly, curling her fingers into her chest as if she’d been burned.

She didn’t feel anything for Christopher Jordan, she reminded herself harshly. Not anymore. He didn’t deserve her pity, or her compassion. Scriptural verses flooded her mind, words about mercy and forgiveness, but she refused to concede. Not for him.

It didn’t take a genius to read the change in her demeanor, and his eyes quickly shaded, resuming the tint of frosty steel.

“I have rights,” he reminded her, his voice as cold as his gaze.

Jasmine steeled her heart, preparing to do mental battle with the man who’d once been the love of her life. She’d fight him tooth and nail for Sammy, and in the end, that was all that mattered. Not the past. The good or the bad. She wouldn’t let her heart betray her a second time.

“You lost any rights you had the night you left Jenny alone and pregnant,” she snarled.

His lips thinned. He opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly shut it again.

“You aren’t Sammy’s father,” she added abruptly, sensing her advantage.

The barb met its mark, if his sharp intake of breath was any indication. She rushed on before she lost her nerve.

“You can threaten me with a lawsuit if you want, but I’m not backing down. Jenny made me Sammy’s guardian. I’ve got papers to prove it—papers that will stand up in any court of law.”

Jasmine wasn’t as certain of her claim as she sounded, but she wasn’t about to let on. She made a mental note to speak with the family attorney, feeling pleased that she’d struck Christopher dumb, at least for a moment.

He swept off his hat, his gaze genuinely hurt and confused. “Who said anything about a lawsuit?” he demanded, blowing out a breath. “Shoot, Jazz, don’t you know me well enough by now to know I wouldn’t do that to you? Or to Sammy,” he added, under his breath.

Hat in hand, he reached out his arms to her, beseeching her with his gaze as well as his posture. “Just let me see him. I won’t stay long. I just want to see that he’s safe and—” His voice choked, cutting his sentence short. “Please, Jasmine. Just for a minute.”

She felt herself relenting even as her answer left her lips. “Forget it. Not now, and not ever. Go back from whatever rock you crawled out from under, Christopher. There’s nothing here for you now.”

Her heart felt like it had been through a paper shredder, and she whirled away from him before she gave in to the earnest pleading in his tone. She had to get away from him until she could think things through, knowing she couldn’t put two straight thoughts together when he looked at her that way.

How could she not remember the man Christopher once was, the strong, gentle man she loved? But that man was gone, her dreams shattered by the same disheartening reality that was responsible for creating the sweet little boy in the bedroom.

Which only served to prove that good really could come from something bad.

No matter what, she had to protect Sammy. She opened the screen door and slipped inside, glancing behind her shoulder in time to see Christopher punch his hat on his head and move to follow her.

Her heart pounded as she reached for the door and slammed it behind her, barely locking Christopher out before he began pounding.

“And good riddance,” she whispered, leaning her forehead on the door.

Jasmine was terrified Sammy would wake up and start wailing. If that happened, and Christopher heard his baby, he’d never leave. She slid down against the wall, cupping her hands over her ears. Why wouldn’t he just go away and leave them alone?

After ten minutes, when she’d finally concluded he’d never quit pounding, she heard him stomp back to his truck and slam the door. She felt both relieved and yet strangely desolate now that she was once again alone.

Her heart was still in her throat as she peeked from behind the front curtain and watched him drive away in his old Chevy truck, relaxing only when she knew for sure he was gone.

He would be back. Christopher Jordan was a stubborn, vigorous man who actively pursued what he wanted. He wouldn’t let this episode stop him from seeing Sammy. But at least it would give her time to think, to sort out her feelings so she could face him again without the emotions that earlier clouded her judgement.

Running a palm over her hair to smooth it, she took a deep breath and forced a smile to her lips. She knew Gram would see right through it, but she had to try.

Head held high, she walked as quietly and serenely as possible into the bedroom. Gram sang softly to the baby, rocking slowly back and forth with Sammy tucked in the crook of her arm.

It was such a peaceful scene, and so much at variance with the frantic pace of Jasmine’s heart, that she nearly turned tail and walked out again. But Gram caught her eye and smiled.

“He’s sleeping soundly, dear,” she said softly, continuing to rock. “I fed him the whole bottle. He’s probably down for the count. Can you help me lay him in the bassinet?”

Jasmine nodded and moved forward, holding Sammy a moment longer than necessary, inhaling his sweet, baby scent and enjoying the feel of his soft skin against her cheek. It was only the threat of losing him that made her realize that she couldn’t live without him.

It was more than just the schedule changes, the responsibility that came with having a newborn. More even than knowing there was someone completely dependent on her for his every need.

It was the space in her heart that grew larger every day, ebbing and flowing with love for this little one.

There was no way she was going to let Christopher take him away. She’d once thought the gaping hole he rent in her heart would never be mended. But loving Sammy forced her to open up her heart once again, to feel and live and hope.

She kissed the infant on his soft forehead and pushed the thatch of downy hair from his eyes. She wouldn’t let the little guy down. No matter what.

“Is he gone?” Gram asked gently.

With an audible sigh, she took her grandmother’s elbow and led her to the kitchen, where she seated the elderly woman on a foldout chair. Jenny’s financial straits were obvious by the card table she used in place of a regular kitchen table.

Sammy had the best of everything, most of which had been bought by Jenny before her death. She had sacrificed everything for her unborn son, showing the kind of sweet, giving person she was all the way up to her last breath. She would have done anything for her Sammy.

Jasmine felt a tug of grief, and made a pretense of looking through the cupboard in order to have a moment to fold those feelings back into her memory. She already knew what was in the cupboards, which amounted to a box of peppermint tea and a box of saltine crackers.

“Do you want some tea?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound as high and squeaky to Gram as it did to her own ears. It annoyed her to betray her feelings in her voice, especially to Gram, who was already much too perceptive. With a determined effort, she steadied her voice and continued. “I think I’ll have a cup, myself.”

“Are you okay?”

She took her time pulling two mugs from a shelf and filling them with water, before turning to face her grandmother. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I can’t imagine,” Gram replied dryly.

She set the cups in the microwave and turned it on, then sat down across from her grandmother. “You’re too wise for your own good.”

Gram met Jasmine’s gaze over the top of her spectacles and chuckled. “I haven’t been alive for eighty years without learning something.”

Jasmine reached for Gram’s hand and squeezed it. “You’ve been so much help to me these past months,” she admitted, her voice quavering with emotion. “I couldn’t have made it without you.”

“What’s family for?” Gram said, waving off her comment with a slight grunt of protest.

The microwave buzzed, and Jasmine jumped up. As she dipped the tea bags into the mugs, she took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “It was Christopher at the door.”

“Who else would it be? Didn’t sound like he was in a hurry to leave, either.”

“That’s the understatement of the year,” she agreed quietly. “I should have realized he’d be back, that he’d want to see Sammy at some point. I just wasn’t prepared for him to show up today.”

“And you sent him packing.” It was a statement rather than a question, punctuated with a dry chuckle.

Jasmine laughed, but it didn’t reach her heart. “You could say that. I slammed the door in his face.”

“He’ll be back.” Gram nodded her head as if confirming her own words.

The flatness Jasmine felt when Christopher left wound itself more tightly around her chest. “I know,” she whispered.

“What are you going to do about him?”

Gram was nothing if not direct, she reflected. No games. No beating around the bush. She just said what she thought and was done with it. One of the perks that came with age, Gram always said just before blurting out something outrageous.

Jasmine shook her head. “I don’t know yet. Seeing him again confused me. I thought it would be easier. I thought…”

“That you hated him?” Gram queried gently, finishing the sentence for her. “Love doesn’t give up so easily, my dear.”

She shook her head fiercely. “No. I’m not in love with Christopher anymore.” If her heart believed that, she wouldn’t be quaking in her shoes, she thought acerbically. But she’d never admit it, not even to herself. “I’ve been over him for a long time.”

“Have you?” Gram’s questioning gaze met hers, and she looked away, afraid her grandmother would read the truth she knew must shine through her tears.

She couldn’t love Christopher! Not after all these years, and especially not after everything he’d done to her and her family.

Then why did her heart leap when she saw him again?

She’d loved him since they were both in high school, she rationalized. For years they’d been inseparable. He’d been the man to whom she pledged her life, with whom she was ready to tie the knot.

Was it any wonder she would have such a polar reaction at seeing him again?

How could she not? It was only natural, after all, for her to have lingering feelings for a man who was such a large part of her past. Some of her happiest memories were with Christopher Jordan, and that was something his recent actions couldn’t take away.

“My feelings don’t matter,” she said at last, shaking her head. “This isn’t about me.” She paused and took a deep breath, giving the bassinet a pointed look. “He wants to see Sammy. For all I know, he wants to take him away. And somehow, I’ve got to figure out a way to stop him.”

Gram slowly stood and stretched, then shuffled to Jasmine’s side, placing a consoling arm around her shoulders.

That the arm around her didn’t have the power of former years mattered not a bit. Strength flowed from the elder to the younger with an intensity that only came from inner peace.

“I know this is hard for you, dear,” she said, patting Jasmine’s shoulder as she would to comfort a child. “But don’t ignore your feelings. They are God given. Pray about it. Search your heart. And, Jasmine?”

“Mmm?”

“Talk to Christopher.”

“Talk to him?” she screeched, her anger returning in spades. “Gram, I never thought you’d be on his side, after what happened to Jenny! Why should I talk to him?”

Gram’s eyebrows creased as she frowned. “Don’t you speak to me that way, young lady,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “I may be eighty, but I can still take you over my knee!”

Jasmine stepped back, surprised, then broke into a tired laugh, serving as a valve for the release of her anger. Gram was right, of course.

She hugged her grandmother as hard as the older woman’s frail bones would allow. “I’m sorry,” she said, her heart contrite. “I’m just confused. I’m sure I’ll be all right after I pray about it.” The words slipped out of her mouth from years of training, and she just wanted to bite her tongue. Pray about it, indeed.

Gram nodded, not appearing to notice the grimace Jasmine made. “I’ll pray, too. It’s the best we can do. The first thing, and the best. It’ll all work out. In God’s way, and in God’s timing. We just have to look to Him and trust that He knows what’s best.”

Well, on that point, anyway, Jasmine couldn’t agree more. God, if there was one, must certainly have something spectacular planned, or else He had a very peculiar sense of humor. If only she knew what He had in mind—and what role she was to play.

Christopher pulled a hard right off the gravel mountain road and drove into the brush, not caring that the pine trees were probably scratching the truck’s exterior. When he was in far enough that he couldn’t see the road, he slammed the gear into Park and shut down the engine.

This wasn’t the way he’d meant it to be. He thumped a closed fist against the steering wheel. He hadn’t meant to alienate Jasmine with the first words out of his mouth. What a big lug he was. Talk first, stick his big, dirty boots in his mouth afterward. He could certainly add his first encounter with her in a year to his ever-growing list of failures.

This one, however, he had to take full credit for. Much of what happened to him wasn’t in his control, a part of God’s will he couldn’t understand. But this was completely his own doing, and he’d blown it big time. Not exactly a surprise, with his track record.

He’d been so certain he was meant to come back to Westcliffe. What else could he do? He loved Jasmine. He always had. To think of living without her—and Sammy—was unbearable.

But if his first encounter with her was anything to go by, he had a long way to travel to get back in her good graces. Her closed attitude left him shaken and unsure of himself. She didn’t even try to hide how much she loathed seeing him again.

He lifted his hat and raked his fingers through the short ends of his hair. Frustration seethed through every nerve ending until his whole body tingled.

All he wanted to do was see Sammy, not run off with the boy like some criminal, though that’s how he’d been treated. And Sammy had been in that bungalow. He’d heard the baby’s cry and the soothing sounds of Jasmine’s grandmother coming from the other room. What kind of a fool did she think he was?

The point of it—and that’s what hurt—was that Jazz didn’t want him to see the baby.

He understood her hesitance. He’d done a lot of things that needed explaining. But in the meantime, he’d hoped their years together would count for something.

He wasn’t foolish enough to expect that he would be able to knock on her door and resume their relationship, where it had broken off before she’d gone off to med school, but couldn’t she at least listen to him?

“Ha!” he said aloud, the sound echoing in the small cab of his truck. She hadn’t listened to him then, and she wouldn’t listen now.

Especially now. She wouldn’t trust him any more than any other of Westcliffe’s residents did. Far less, even, for she had more reasons to doubt him than the small town that virtually shunned his existence now that he was back.

The neighbors he could live without. Jasmine, he couldn’t.

He’d hurt the woman he loved most in the world, and the knowledge sat like lead in his stomach. It was a burden he’d been carrying since the day she’d turned away from him and walked right out of his life. The day the world discovered he would soon be a father.

Jasmine thought he’d betrayed her, and mincing words didn’t change anything. Pain seared through his chest.

He wasn’t denying his actions, no matter how questionable the whole thing was in his mind. What else could he have done, under the circumstances? He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought Jasmine would understand, that she’d want him to take the actions he’d decided on for Jenny’s sake.

But she wouldn’t even listen. What she’d learned, she hadn’t learned from him, and he would regret that for the rest of his life. He should have made the trip to Denver as soon as he found out about Jenny. But there was so much to do, and not much time in which to do it.

He’d been so wrapped up in the tailspin his life had taken that he’d put it off, thinking he’d approach Jasmine when the ruckus had died down. After he’d taken care of the necessities, and before she’d heard the truth from someone else.

She still didn’t know the truth. He’d hoped to tell her today.

He’d even hoped she’d forgive him. It was part of what drove him back to town—to ask her forgiveness for his part in the tragedy that had become their lives, and to ask for a second chance.

It was obviously not going to happen that way. He clamped his teeth together until he could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. What he wanted didn’t matter. Not yet, and maybe not ever.

He had another responsibility—Sammy, the baby he’d never seen. He wasn’t going to let that boy down. And if that meant postponing the inevitable confrontation with Jasmine on personal issues, so be it.

His resolution did, however, present a unique set of circumstances, since he had to go through Jasmine to get to Sammy. Emotional issues aside, Jasmine was a formidable woman. If she decided to make things rough for him, there was no doubt in his mind she would succeed.

Which meant he had to convince her otherwise. Make her see reason. They needed to put the past aside, sit down together and discuss the issues like the adults they were.

This wasn’t some high school spat they could just ignore and expect to go away. They were dealing with the welfare of a child. For all intents and purposes, his child.

His throat tightened. He had actually been relieved to hear Jasmine had been appointed Sammy’s legal guardian, though he would never tell her so. He couldn’t think of a better mother for the boy. He could depend on her to take care of Sammy as if he were her own.

And he could leave.

He recognized that the moment he’d seen the determination on Jasmine’s face. He could turn around, walk right out of Westcliffe, and never look back, knowing Sammy was in capable hands. Loving hands.

And he would be doing no less than what everyone expected.

Maybe that would be best. How was he to know? He wasn’t ready to be a father. What did he know about babies? He hadn’t planned to be a father for a few years yet, after he and Jasmine had settled down. Blast it anyway, he didn’t even know how to change a diaper.

What kind of hole had he dug for himself? And all because he was trying to do the right thing.

He blew out a breath and started the engine, gunning it into Reverse and making the wheels spin as he pulled back onto the dirt road. He shifted into gear and put the pedal to the metal.

Heading back toward town.

He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t go without Sammy, even knowing he was in Jasmine’s capable hands. And though he knew he would cause a lot more pain before he could start mending hurts, it had to be done.

He had to go back. He needed Sammy in his life.

Sammy—and Jasmine.

Chapter Three

Three days later, Jasmine stared over the rim of her coffee cup at the soft-spoken cowboy across from her. The term cowboy used loosely, she thought wryly. Christopher had been born and raised in this mountain town, but he couldn’t ride a horse to save his life. Ranching wasn’t in his blood.

He looked the part, though, with his form-fitting western jeans, snap-down western shirt and a steel gray cowboy hat. Of course, he’d taken off the hat when he’d entered the café, exposing his thatch of windblown brown hair.

Another cowboy trait.

Her mind was being perversely obtuse this afternoon, she thought. How she could find anything humorous to laugh about in her present state of mind was beyond her comprehension. It was as if her subconscious were seeking to avoid the inevitable confrontation.

The determined gleam in Christopher’s eyes and the hard set of his jaw gave him away. Why else would he have asked her to meet him in a small café in Wetmore, a half hour’s drive from their home town and well out of the public eye?

She’d been surprised when he’d called yesterday and asked to meet her, but now she was as prepared as she’d ever be for whatever he would throw at her, though she still couldn’t come up with a single acceptable reason for a man to abandon his wife and unborn child. And then return to claim his son after Jenny was dead. If he didn’t want the boy before…

The familiar swell of anger rushed through her, but she tamped it down. She would listen. She owed him that much, whatever sort of torn and twisted man he’d become. He claimed he wanted Sammy, and today he would attempt to explain why.

Not that his words would make any difference. She already knew what her answer would be, despite anything he told her.

He couldn’t have the baby. Not in a billion, trillion years.

Sammy was her son now. The papers declaring it so were firmly in her possession and valid in a court of law.

She’d fight him tooth and nail in court if she had to, but she prayed it wouldn’t come to that. That was her true objective—to reason with him, to try to touch the man she once knew, the man buried deep inside the monster sitting across from her.

To make him leave quietly. And alone.

“What’ll ya’ll have?” said a waitress, tapping her pencil against her pad of paper. Her cheek near her bottom gum was plump with tobacco. Jasmine had heard of gum-chewing waitresses, but the thought of a tobacco-chewing waitress was more than her stomach could handle.

“A cup of hot tea for me,” she said weakly, shifting her attention from the woman to focus on her queasy insides. “Peppermint, if you’ve got it.”

She wasn’t sure she could swallow even tea, but it occurred to her the peppermint might settle her stomach a little. She’d used it on Sammy’s colic to good effect, so she could only hope it would ease some of her own distress.