Desperately Seeking Daddy Read online

  Heller was talking loudly and sternly to Punk, who was openly sobbing now. “I want to hear an apology, young lady, and I want to hear it right now!”

  Punk sobbed as only a six-year-old with lots of practice can. “Wah-ha-ha-ha!”

  Jack shook his head. Cody wrung his hands, saying, “Punk, don’t cry. Don’t cry!”

  Over it all, Heller was saying, “Now, Punk! Apologize now!”

  As if that weren’t enough, the door opened and none other than Carmody Moore walked in. “What the hell’s going on?”

  Heller whirled around. Punk flew at him, throwing her arms around his legs and crying, “Daddy! Daddy!”

  Carmody’s eyes slid over Jack and Heller. “Are you giving her a hard time again?” he demanded of Heller.

  “You don’t know anything about it, Carmody,” she told him, “and I’ll thank you not to butt in.”

  “Butt in? This is my kid here, Heller, in case you’ve forgotten. They’re all my kids.”

  Heller rolled her eyes, pressing the back of her head with both hands. “What do you want, Carmody?”

  His eyes slid over Jack again. “Can’t I just stop over to see my kids?”

  “Yeah, right,” Heller retorted. “If you’re after my car again, just forget it. I haven’t seen a cent from the last time I loaned it to you, and you promised—”

  “Is money all you think about?”

  Heller dropped both hands. “I’m in no mood to listen to this. Go away, Carmody!”

  “The hell I will. I want to know what’s going on here. Why’s Punk crying?”

  Heller put both hands to her head again, as if to hold it on. “I’m not up to this. I’m not feeling well,” she said deliberately. “Please just go.”

  Jack, who felt perfectly superfluous, was gripping the mop handle so hard that he was in danger of leaving fingerprints in the brittle wood. Carmody sneered at him, then at Heller. “What’s the matter, sugar? Morning sickness got you again?” He turned the sneer back to Jack. “You want to be real careful, hot shot. She’s a real fertile breeder, if you know what I mean.”

  Jack’s temper roared in his ears. For just a moment he was blinded by it, Carmody’s sly face dissolving in a red haze. Only the recognition of his anger kept him from driving that mop handle down Carmody’s throat. Instead, he threw it down, letting the force of that action communicate the depth of his rage.

  “Gol!” Cody exclaimed, his eyes nearly popping out of his head when he saw the tip of the mop handle shatter, one chunk flying across the room.

  His hands free, Jack took a step forward, right into Heller. She levered herself against his chest. “Jack! Jack, don’t! It won’t solve anything, and it’s what he wants. Please, Jack!”

  As quickly as it had come, the anger retreated, at least enough to let a bit of reason slip in. He was about to break Carmody Moore into little pieces with his bare hands, right in front of his own children in their very home with their mother begging him not to. He took a step back, breathing deeply.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “No, it’s not your fault,” Heller said quickly, “but I think you ought to leave now. Okay, Jack? Will you do that for me?”

  He nodded, thinking that he shouldn’t have come in the first place. “You’ll be all right?”

  She smiled up at him. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, promise.”

  He nodded again and shifted toward the door. Heller turned and literally shoved Carmody out of the way. Jack brushed by him and flung open the door.

  “Mr. Tyler!”

  Jack paused long enough to turn a look over one shoulder. Cody was on his knees at the end of the couch, his small hands grasping the curved back.

  “Thanks, Mr. Tyler,” he said huskily.

  Jack nodded tersely and went out the door, wondering what Cody could find to thank him for. Maybe he was just grateful his father wasn’t bleeding all over the place.

  Jack pounded down the steps and headed for the street, fishing in his pocket for his keys. He could hear Carmody and Heller yelling at each other inside the trailer. Davy started screaming from the back bedroom, and Punk was getting in her two cents worth. Oh, yeah, Jack thought bitterly. He’d fixed things real well this time, him and his compulsions. He got in the car and drove away, trying not to think about what he’d left Heller to deal with all on her own.

  Aw, Heller, what the hell am I doing? he thought. Your daughter hates me. Your baby is scared to death of me. Your ex is causing you trouble because of me. Seemed like Cody was the only one who had any use for him at all. But it was Heller who counted. He admitted it for the first time. He wanted her to want him—because he wanted her.

  Heller sat down at the kitchen table and stared morosely at the dirty breakfast dishes. Boy-oh-boy, they’d really done it now. Punk was in the bedroom, pouting, banished finally for her rudeness. Carmody had made no protest about the punishment once Jack was gone, a fact that Heller hoped her daughter had noted. He’d been much too busy insulting Jack himself, as if he had any right to make judgments or pronouncements on any of her friends. Except she feared that she could no longer count Jack Tyler in that category, if ever she could have. No, whatever his reasons for showing up this morning, she doubted he would make that mistake again. They’d run him off for good.

  To her dismay, tears filled her eyes, but she sniffed them up and swallowed them down, refusing to let even one fall. Her head pounded, and her stomach churned with disappointment, but she would not give in to it. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d lost anything in Jack Tyler. She couldn’t lose what she’d never had. Still…

  She ran a fingertip around the rim of his coffee cup. He was such a thoughtful man, making her coffee, pushing aspirin down her, massaging her scalp and nape with his big, hot hands. She thought of how he’d separated Cody and Punk, of the authority in his tone and manner, the way he’d stopped Davy from eating dust from under her couch and then cleaned up after him. She chuckled, remembering the look on his face when Davy had let go. He liked kids, but he obviously didn’t have much experience with the little ones. Pity he’d never had any of his own. At least she didn’t think he had. No, he couldn’t have. Any kid of his would be the center of his universe. She’d have heard all about him or her by now.

  Heller sighed and got up from the table. She gathered up dishes and carried them to the sink, then started the water running. She sluiced out the sink, put in the stopper and squeezed out the soap. She stood for a moment watching the suds build and thinking. Why had Carmody had to show up right then? Why couldn’t he have kept his smart mouth shut? She’d put the fear of God into him about just opening the door to her house and walking in without so much as a “Mother, may I?” The next time he tried that, she’d told him, she would go to court for a restraining order, even if it meant selling her car to finance such a venture. He’d seemed suitably cowed. It had occurred to her even then that Jack had done the very same thing, and it hadn’t bothered her at all. It had, in fact, felt natural somehow, as if he’d belonged. Now that was a laugh, a man like Jack Tyler belonging in a shabby, crowded place like this.

  She turned off the water and reached for a sponge. Unbidden and without warning, memory shivered over her. She closed her eyes and swayed against the cabinet. She saw herself sitting across Jack’s lap, her head on his shoulder, his mouth covering hers, his hand at her breast. She felt the thrust of his tongue, the strength of his big body, the heat of that hand cupping her breast. Jack Tyler had awakened a craving in her she’d almost forgotten during nearly three years of chosen celibacy. She forced the thought out of mind, straightened and fixed her attention on the sinkful of dirty dishes.

  “Mom?”

  The small voice startled her. She looked down to find Cody standing close by her side. The expression on his face told her that he’d come to the same conclusion as she had about Jack Tyler. She steeled herself and began scrubbing a drinking glass.

  “What is it, son?”

  “Why’d Dad do
that?” he asked. “What’s he got against Mr. Tyler?”

  She could have answered that in many ways, but she simply shook her head. “I don’t know, Cody. I don’t understand your father any better than you do.”

  Cody leaned a shoulder against the counter. “I bet Mr. Tyler wouldn’t go around with other women,” he said softly.

  Heller dropped the sponge into the water, wiped suds off her hands and went down to eye level with her son. “Cody, I never meant for you to know about that. It’s not right for a kid to have to know that about his father.”

  Cody screwed up his face. “I’m no baby, Mom. I even heard ‘em sometimes, Dad and those women.”

  “Oh, God.” Heller wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

  “Wasn’t your fault,” he mumbled, and then he pushed away, looking at her with eyes more knowledgeable than any child’s should be. “Mr. Tyler’s not like that. I know he’s not!”

  Heller sighed and pushed up to her full height. “I’m sure he’s not, Cody. I’m equally sure that Jackson Tyler has no real interest in me romantically.” Not anymore, anyway, she added mentally. “You’ve got to get that out of your head, Cody. Otherwise you’re going to be very disappointed.” She plunged into the soapy water again, putting on her cockiest expression and trying to sound smug and bright. “Besides, I don’t think I really want a man in my life right now, Cody. I like being independent, and we’re doing okay, you and me. Together we’re keeping this family afloat, aren’t we? What do we need some bossy man for really?” She smiled down at him and winked. “You’re man enough around this house for me, mister.”

  He smiled and puffed out his chest, but she could see the wistfulness lurking at the backs of his eyes. She felt it, shared it, but all it was good for was getting them hurt. She concentrated her energy on washing dishes.

  “Go tell your sister she can come out now,” she ordered dismissively.

  He turned and moved lethargically toward the back of the house. Heller swallowed and scrubbed. She wouldn’t cry. She absolutely would not cry, because if she ever got started, she might never stop.

  Chapter Five

  It was pure accident, but Jack was never one to question good fortune. He paused inside the door of the small café only long enough to signal Liz for a cup of coffee, which he carried over to the table where Carmody Moore was holding court. Jack knew the two girls at Carmody’s table, and girls they were, one of them only fourteen years old. Both were part of the local cowboy culture and were always seen wearing boots, skin-tight jeans, and Western shirts with cutesy cutouts. Today was no exception. Both were hanging on every word that slithered out of Carmody’s mouth. Jack stood at Carmody’s back, sipped his coffee and listened.

  “Yeah, now that night at the VFW,” Carmody was saying, “that night was kind of an off night, you know? I mean, the creative juices, they just weren’t flowing, and that, ladies, that is when making music is work. Everybody thinks music is just glamour and high living, you know, and yeah, some of the time, that’s what it is, but I’m here to tell you, it ain’t easy. No, sir, not just anybody can make a living at what I do.”

  Jack couldn’t keep silent any longer. “That include you, Carmody? Is that why you’re six months behind on your child support? Why your three little kids do without and live in a rundown old trailer? Why you don’t even own a car?”

  Carmody turned in his chair. “Tyler!”

  Jack ignored him, smiling at the girls. “Hello, Amanda, Christine. Enjoying your summer vacation?”

  Both girls visibly shrank. There was nothing like meeting a former principal to remind you how old—or young—you were. They murmured subdued greetings, sucked at the straws in their soda glasses and took their leave. Jack watched Carmody fume, relishing the moment, and seated himself at Carmody’s table.

  “How old are you, Carmody?”

  “None of your business, big man,” Carmody hissed. “Just ‘cause you’re hitting on my old lady, that doesn’t give you the right to stick your nose into my business.”

  Jack set down his cup of coffee and leaned his elbows on the table, staring straight into Carmody’s eyes. “Your ex-wife and I are friends, period. Now if you want to keep me out of your business, I suggest you stay out of mine, and that includes my relationship with Heller. And while we’re at it, let me say this. If you ever insult her in my hearing again like you did the other night with your nasty innuendo, I’m going to take great pleasure in reshaping your face with my hands. The only reason I didn’t do it then was because your children were there, and I have too much respect and concern for them to beat their daddy into a bloody pulp while they watch. But the message, in case you didn’t get it, is this. You lay off Heller, or you answer to me.”

  “I’m not scared of you, big man,” Carmody sneered.

  Jack grinned. “No? Well, you ought to be, because I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than put my fist through your face.”

  Fear flashed in Carmody’s eyes, but he quickly covered it, adopting a well-rehearsed bravado. “You don’t want to mess with me, Tyler,” he said menacingly. “I know some of the worst bar toughs in Texas. You catch my drift?”

  Jack chuckled, shaking his head, and no one would ever know how much it cost him to keep his tone steady and easy. “Yeah, I know a scare tactic when I hear one,” he said. “Now I’m going to tell you again. You have nothing to say about who Heller sees or what she does. In fact, you better be sweetness and light with Heller from now on. Because if you hurt her, I won’t be sending some fictitious tough guy after you, I’m going to be coming myself. And it won’t be pleasant, Carmody, I promise.”

  Carmody squirmed in agitation, clearly frustrated by his inability to cow Jack with his smart mouth. “You think I’ve got no reason to question my ex?” he practically shouted. “Well, what about my children? How do I know my kids ain’t suffering because of you? To hear Punk tell it, you’re meaner than Simon Legree!”

  Jack sat back and folded his hands in his lap, saying reasonably, “Punk’s a six-year-old. All six-year-olds think principals are mean, but the truth is that school boards don’t put people who dislike or hurt kids in positions of authority. Beyond that, I’d put my reputation up against anyone’s. Fact is, I’m a nice guy—unless you cross me.” He got up and thumped the table with his knuckles. “You’d best remember that.” He walked away, keeping a tight rein on his temper, which for a moment there had threatened to get away from him. As compensation, he let Carmody pay for his coffee.

  * * *

  Fanny hacked and coughed and gasped and finally cleared her throat.

  Heller noted the creases about her eyes and the pallor beneath too-bright rouge and felt a jolt of concern. “You smoke too much, Mama,” she said softly, wiping down the countertop.

  “Now don’t start on me, Heller,” Fanny complained in her gravelly voice. “I’ve got sinus. That’s all it is. Besides, I didn’t come down here to talk about me.”

  Heller sent her a blunt, knowing look, then turned away to wait on an old man buying a roll of toilet paper. He came in once a week and bought a single roll of toilet paper, never another blessed thing. He had the correct change counted out before the cash register finished chugging. Heller took it with a smile and wished him a good day. He said the same thing he always said, “Uh-yeah,” and shuffled away. The door opened and a particular fellow came in. Heller hastily turned back to her mother, hoping he would just go away and knowing he wouldn’t. No matter how many times she turned him down, he kept asking her out, and she’d have sooner dated Hitler. They were about even morally, but at least Hitler didn’t have a beer belly that made him look as if the baby was overdue, and hair that surely hadn’t been washed since Prohibition. Naturally he was a favorite of Fanny’s.

  “Hey, Boomer!”

  He waved and headed toward the beer case.

  “Don’t encourage him, Mom,” Heller said quietly.

  Fanny leaned her el
bows on the counter, displaying entirely too much liver-spotted cleavage in the process. Even this early in the day, her breath betrayed the gin she favored and increasingly denied using. “What have you got against Boomer? Your daddy always liked that boy.”

  “Dad would,” Heller muttered. “They are definitely two of a kind, and he’s hardly a boy anymore.”

  Fanny snaked a long, bare arm across the counter, charm bracelets jangling, to lightly prod Heller’s shoulder with red-tipped fingers. “Maybe you got something else going?” she suggested, penciled brows arching.

  Heller frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play coy with me,” Fanny said slyly. “I’ve heard all about it.”

  “Heard about what?”

  “You and that schoolteacher.”

  Jack. Heller’s heart slammed against her chest, but she knew better than to show Fanny such a reaction. She snorted. “Yeah, right. Can you see me with some nerdy little professor type?”

  Fanny leaned a hip against the counter and folded her arms. “I hear he’s some gimp—”

  “Mo-ther!”

  “Oh, all right, let’s be politically correct then. I hear he’s a handicapped fellow.”

  “He is not!” Heller retorted hotly, realizing her mistake too late.

  Fanny smacked the counter with her open palm. “Ah-ha! Carmody was right! You’ve taken up with Cody’s teacher.”

  Heller closed her eyes and tamped down her temper. “I haven’t taken up with anybody, but if you’re referring to Mr. Tyler, he’s the elementary school principal, and he’s definitely not handicapped. He has an old football injury that acts up sometimes, and that’s all. There, now you know everything there is to know.”

  Fanny narrowed eyes shadowed heavily with neon blue. “I hear he’s spent the night at your place.”

  Heller’s temper went from simmering to laser cold. “That’s a lie,” she said, her tone deadly.

  Fanny bristled, pursing a mouth gone crepey around the edges. “Don’t you talk to me like that, my girl. I’m trying to help. I’m worried about you, Heller. A man like that Tyler can’t want but one thing from you, and we both know what it is.”