Her Single Dad Hero Page 12

  “Which one?”

  “That so-called animal doctor.”

  Meredith could not forgive Burns for failing to save her injured cat. Ann sighed and explained about the building supplies, then for the first time in memory, she decided to forgo her Thursday morning run. Instead, she took a long shower then got dressed again and went downstairs to face her family with wet hair and red-rimmed eyes.

  Fortunately Meredith had already related her tale of a sleepless night, bungled scheduling and early-morning calls, so their dad commiserated rather than questioned.

  No one seemed to notice her missing engagement ring, which sat atop her dresser, boxed, addressed, and waiting to be brought to the War Bonnet post office.

  Chapter Ten

  Missing. Dean expected Ann to show up in the field every day, but the woman had gone missing.

  She had always been the gutsy type, but obviously that kiss had driven her away, maybe all the way back to Texas. He had a perfect excuse, the business plan, to stop by the house, but he couldn’t quite work up the courage. If she didn’t want to see him, he was not about to force his company on her.

  Yet he felt a burning need, which only grew as time passed, to at least clap eyes on her. Part of him needed to know that she was well; part of him needed to know that she didn’t hate him or, even worse, scorn him. Mostly he just wanted to see her. Sometimes he wondered how he had gone for so many years without just seeing her. They didn’t even have to talk; he just needed to look at her and know that she still existed in the world.

  The wounded part of him felt some residual anger over her reaction to that kiss, but then he closed his eyes to sleep at night and the memory of it washed over him afresh. He remembered the feel of her in his arms, and he couldn’t help smiling.

  If only she hadn’t thanked him, hadn’t suggested it was all about pity.

  If only he hadn’t carried the image in his head all these years of this vibrant, laughing, confident, beautiful girl who could melt him with a careless smile and knock a ball out of the park with the same ease. No other girl he’d ever met had measured up to her.

  And she’d wanted to know if she was feminine!

  He still wished he’d shaken her. Right after he’d kissed her. Maybe before.

  And maybe he should just keep his distance. Besides, she would surely be in church on Sunday.

  Except, she wasn’t in church on Sunday. Meredith was there, and when Dean asked about Ann, Meredith said, “She insisted on staying home with Dad this week.”

  Yes, of course she did, Dean thought, because she knew I’d be here. Smiling, he said, “I hope that means Wes is improved.”

  “Much,” Meredith confirmed. “He’s still weak, of course, and his immune system is increasingly compromised, but at least his nausea is gone. That will only last until his next chemotherapy session, but for now he feels better.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Dean said, and he meant it. He lifted a hand to the back of his head and asked, “Would you happen to know if Ann’s had a chance to look over my books? She was going to help me with a business plan.”

  Meredith shrugged. “Sorry. I couldn’t say. She’s spent a lot of time in the office lately, though. Maybe that’s what’s keeping her so busy. Should I tell her you asked?”

  Shaking his head, Dean backed away. “Naw. I’ll give her a couple more days. Thanks, though. Do give my best to Wes.” He left Meredith nodding.

  Certain that Ann was avoiding him, Dean stayed away from the ranch house on Monday, but by Tuesday evening, though tired to the bone, he couldn’t bear it anymore. Telling himself that the longer this went on, the more awkward their next meeting would be, he cleaned up, left Donovan with his grandmother and drove back to the Straight Arrow.

  Meredith answered the door, smiling warmly. Dean pulled his hat and nodded in greeting but didn’t beat around the bush.

  “Ann here?”

  Her smile seemed to fade slightly. “Sure. I’ll go up and get her. Meanwhile, will you see Dad? He’s feeling like a caged tiger these days.”

  “Be glad to.”

  Meredith waved him inside, took his hat, hung it on a peg on the wall and pointed toward the living room as she started up the stairs, calling out, “Dean is here, Dad.”

  Wes brought his recliner into its upright position and stood, turning to face Dean. He appeared much improved, maybe even a little heavier, as if his skin wasn’t quite as loose over his bones. “Hey, there, Dean Paul. How’s it going?”

  “Harvest is coming along fine,” Dean answered carefully, walking into the room.

  “I’d shake your hand, but I’m not supposed to,” Wes said cheerfully. “They’re afraid some common old bug will get me before the cancer can.”

  “Lots of folks are praying healing and protection on you,” Dean told him, “against old bugs, new bugs, cancer and everything else.”

  “And I appreciate it,” Wes said with a broad smile. “Appreciate it and count on it. Now, take a seat.” As Dean moved toward the sofa, Wes added, “I want to know what’s going on with Ann.”

  Dean paused, halfway between the sofa and standing. Before he could formulate any sort of reply, Ann spoke from the shadows at the foot of the stairs.

  “I keep telling you, Dad, nothing’s going on. Rex just has me buried with work, and I’m worried about you. Am I not allowed to worry about you?”

  “Yes, sugar, you’re allowed to worry about me,” Wes conceded. “You’re not allowed to worry yourself sick.”

  “I’m not sick,” Ann snapped, already turning toward the office door across the foyer. “In here, if you please, Dean. Let’s get to it.”

  Glancing at Wes, who sighed deeply, Dean straightened and followed Ann into the office. What he saw there shocked him. She had dark rings around her eyes, wore no makeup at all and appeared haggard, as if she hadn’t slept in days. Her hair had been swept up into a messy ponytail, and her faded, rumpled T-shirt looked like something left over from her high school days. Dean had never seen her so unkempt. Worse, she appeared dull, lifeless, as if she cared for nothing and no one.

  “Your annual income is more than adequate,” she stated flatly, standing behind the desk and flipping through some stapled papers. “You pay too much for insurance and way too much in taxes. Fire whoever is doing your taxes for you.”

  “That would be me,” Dean noted flippantly, trying to inject a little humor into the moment.

  She glanced up at that, shrugged and said, “You don’t know what you’re doing. Pay someone who does. You’ll save money.” With that, she tossed the papers at him.

  “That’s it?” he asked, both surprised and dismayed.

  “No. There are phone apps to keep track of your mileage, fuel costs and so forth.” She pulled a sheet from another pile and slung it across the desk. “I made a list for you.”

  He ignored the list and reached for her hand. “Ann, what’s wrong?”

  Jerking free of him, she turned her back and pulled a folder from a shelf. “Here’s my recommendation, a step-by-step plan for realigning your budget, capitalizing and growing your business.” She plopped the folder onto the desk, saying, “Study it. Hire a CPA. Get with Rex after he comes home. He’ll steer you to the right bank and—”

  “Jolly,” Dean interrupted softly. “Talk to me. Please.”

  “I am,” she snapped, frowning.

  “Forget the business stuff,” he began.

  “Business is my thing!” Ann insisted hotly. Leaning her palms flat against the desktop. “Business is what I’m best at, management especially. Some people would go to great lengths, very great lengths, to secure my advice and expertise.” Straightening, she folded her arms and glared at him.

  He didn’t know how or why, but he was suddenly standing on very shaky ground here. Drawing
in a steadying breath through his nostrils, he spoke calmly.

  “I’m sure that’s true, and I appreciate everything you’ve said and done. Truly I do.”

  Despite her outburst, she shrugged as if it made no difference to her one way or another. Dean folded the paper and stashed it inside the folder, which he tucked under his arm, thinking furiously. Something was very wrong here, but he didn’t have a clue what it might be. He turned reluctantly toward the door. Then inspiration struck, and he turned back again.

  “You missed church on Sunday. Maybe you’d like to go to prayer meeting with me tomorrow night.” Ann blinked at him before shaking her head. “Why not?”

  Don’t say that kiss. Don’t say that kiss. Please, God, don’t let her say it’s because of that kiss.

  She lifted her chin, but her eyes remained downcast. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  He raked his gaze over her. “That’s an absurd reason.”

  She opened her mouth as if she would argue, but he didn’t give her the chance.

  “Don’t you feel moved to pray for your father’s health? When was the last time you joined with a group of others in focused prayer?” She stared at him for several seconds, robbing herself of any opportunity to refuse. “I’ll pick you up at six thirty,” he said, turning to open the door. He walked out before she could speak again, pulling the door closed firmly behind him.

  He spent the rest of the night and almost the entirety of the next day praying that she wouldn’t close the door in his face when he came for her.

  To his immense relief, Ann stepped through the front door of the ranch house the next evening before he even got to the porch. Dressed in a flared skirt and familiar lace T-shirt, with no makeup other than some subtly colored lip gloss, her long, vibrant hair hanging straight past her shoulders, she looked like a sixteen-year-old in her mom’s high heels.

  He fell for her all over again, just like the chubby, awkward thirteen-year-old he’d been the first time he’d laid eyes on her in the dugout at the War Bonnet High School baseball field. She hadn’t even known he was alive back then. To her, he was just some kid who delivered a fresh ball to the ump after she smashed one over the fence or who darted out and snatched up her bat after she tossed it aside to run the bases. To him, she’d been as near perfect as a girl could get.

  One of them had changed. But not enough. She was still the girl who could knock the ball out of the park, while he had moved on from ball boy to...barely-getting-by dad.

  He wouldn’t trade Donovan for a college degree or a career, but he couldn’t help wanting to be more for her, for a chance with her. Not that he’d ever have such a chance. If he could help her somehow, though, that would be enough. Whatever had gone wrong for her, if he could find a way to help that would be enough. It had to be.

  Smiling, he said, “Love your hair like that.”

  Lifting a hand to her side part self-consciously, she actually seemed shocked, but all she said was, “Shouldn’t we go?”

  Dean had lots of practice at hiding disappointment. Keeping his smile in place took hardly any effort at all. “Right. Let’s move.”

  He lifted an arm, and she stepped down off the porch onto the path, striding quickly toward the truck parked at the side of the road, so quickly that she stayed a half step ahead of him. He had to rush past her and leap across the ditch to get the passenger door for her. She slid up into the seat without even glancing at him. Sighing, he jogged around and got in behind the steering wheel, started up the truck, made the U-turn and headed toward the church.

  Just as he turned the dually into the parking lot of Countryside Church, he glanced down and saw her left hand dangling off the armrest. Her very naked left hand.

  Before he could think, he blurted, “Where’s your ring?”

  She turned dull eyes on him then looked away again, moving her hand to her lap. “Probably in Dallas by now.”

  He quickly pulled the truck into a parking space, his mind abuzz with questions. Had she broken her engagement? Was that what lay behind her downcast mood of late? Was she heartbroken? Confused? Uncertain what or who she wanted? Or all of the above?

  Before he could ask any of those questions, she’d bailed out of the truck and started across the graveled lot. His heart thudding, Dean threw the transmission into park, killed the engine and went after her, catching up within steps. Impulsively, he slipped an arm across her shoulders. She didn’t even break stride, giving him no reaction at all. Uncertain what to do next—she could be having the ring cleaned, after all—he decided, perhaps cravenly, to go with small talk.

  “School starts in exactly one week. Can you believe it? We haven’t even hit the middle of August yet, and school is about to start.” She nodded but said nothing. “I don’t mind admitting that I’m not looking forward to it,” he went on. “My little boy’s growing up, and it’s tough to take.”

  As if that had penetrated her blankness, she stopped and turned a surprisingly endearing look on him. “You’re a good father, Dean.” A hint of a smile curved one corner of her mouth. “A lousy businessman but a good father.”

  Relieved to see something like real emotion in her, and anxious to further lighten her mood, he chuckled. “Well, I’ve got you to help me with the business part, and things like tonight help with the father part. You know, I never really prayed until Donovan came into my life,” he admitted. “Then suddenly I had this helpless, amazing, tiny person to take care of. Scared the fool out of me. I knew I’d die to protect him but that I couldn’t always. So I started praying, and now sometimes I feel like that’s all I do.”

  Nodding pensively, Ann threaded her fingers through his. “I can see how that might be. But Donovan’s going to be fine. You’re giving him everything he needs to get through life.”

  “Like your parents did for you,” Dean pointed out subtly.

  She blinked up at him.

  Just then, one of the deacons, a middle-aged man, hurried past them and pushed open the glass double door, holding it wide. “Coming in?”

  Dean hadn’t exactly been a regular at midweek prayer meeting in a while, especially since the children’s choir director had resigned to have a baby. With the children’s program on hold, Dean usually stayed home with Donovan so Grandma Betty could come to the meeting, but tonight they had switched so he could bring Ann with him.

  “Yes, thank you,” he called to the deacon, stepping out again, Ann’s hand firmly clasped in his.

  Together they walked into the building. The place felt oddly quiet, serene, even, though Dean knew from the number of cars in the parking lot that dozens of people had to be inside. He was glad that each and every one had come, but tonight the person he cared about most was the woman at his side, holding his hand.

  He was beginning to think that he would always want her at his side, always need her to hold his hand.

  * * *

  Simply holding hands with someone should not have been so comforting, but Ann had never been so shaken, and unlike most women, she was truly lousy at sharing her feelings. She’d known Jordan for years before she’d told him how an overheard conversation had driven her into hotel management. And he had used that knowledge to try to break her bond with her family and keep her on the job—when, now that she thought about it, the job was really all she had to hold on to.

  She told herself that latching on to Dean would be foolish in the extreme because eventually she must go back to her job in Dallas. At first she’d thought otherwise, that when her engagement ended, her job would also, but then she’d checked online for comparable job openings, and everything she’d found would take her even farther away from her dad and the rest of the family than Dallas.

  Strangely, it wasn’t so much that she wanted to go back to the Dallas job. Her life in Dallas seemed sterile and lonely now. Over these last few weeks, she’d
gotten used to sharing a home with her father and sister again. Having company, sitting down to meals together, enjoying real conversations, even trading those small, casual expressions of affection—a touch, a kiss on the cheek, a quick hug—those things all made life so much more...worthwhile. She just didn’t know what she’d do with herself on a productive, day-to-day basis if she didn’t go back to her job at Luxury Hotels, Inc.

  Nevertheless, Rex, Callie and baby Bodie would be home soon, and Rex would once again pick up the reins of the Straight Arrow operation, not that he’d ever completely relinquished them. Ann feared that she would feel displaced and in the way once he stepped back into his managerial role.

  On the other hand, in only a few more days her dad would return to the hospital in Oklahoma City for more chemotherapy; it wouldn’t be the last, and she hated the idea of not being here for him as he fought this disease. Seeing him so ill after the chemo infusions broke her heart, but how could she walk away while he battled for his very life?

  Beneath the shock of Jordan’s lies, she felt lost and uncertain. She’d been able to keep panic at bay with work and a stoic refusal to face the future. Now that Dean had noticed she wasn’t wearing her ring, suddenly Jordan was behind her, and the future stared her in the face. The time had come to begin making plans.

  During the meeting, she asked for her father’s healing and comfort, but her private, unspoken prayer sought clear, obvious direction for her life. Try as she might, though, she couldn’t see her way forward. Where should she go? What should she do? For what job should she apply? She had only questions, no answers.

  Throughout it all, Dean held her hand in his. He became her anchor in the rocky sea of uncertainty that had become her life.

  As the meeting progressed, however, and those around her lifted their voices in prayer, often for her father, Ann’s strength began to return. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she began to feel that she could figure it out in time. In too many ways, she still felt at sea, but the storm began to calm, and she started to believe that she would make it to land, though just where she might wash up she couldn’t quite imagine yet.