Engaged to the Single Mom. Lee McClain Tobin

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      “Well, I’m taking this little lady out for a meal, once—”

      “You’re not going anywhere except home. As soon as your sister gets here to pick you up.”

      “Oh man, you didn’t call Lacey!” Buck staggered to his feet, his hand going to his pocket. He pulled out truck keys. “This has been a bust.”

      Angelica glanced at Troy, willing him to let her handle it. She had plenty of experience with drunk people, starting with her own parents. “Can I see the car keys a minute?”

      He held them out, hope lighting up his face. “You gonna come after all? I’ll let you drive.”

      She took the keys. “I’m not going, and sorry, but you’re not fit to drive yourself, either.”

      He lunged to get them back and Troy stuck out a crutch to trip him. “You’re not welcome on this property until you’re sober.”

      Angelica kept backing off while, in the distance, a Jeep made clouds on the dusty road. That must be Buck’s sister.

      So she could go home now. Back inside. Face Xavier and tell him the date was off.

      Except she couldn’t, because tears were filling her eyes and blurring her vision. She blinked hard and backed up as far as the porch steps while Troy greeted the woman who’d squealed up in the Jeep.

      The woman pushed past Troy, poked a finger in Buck’s chest and proceeded to chew him out. Then she and Troy helped him into the passenger seat. They stood beside the Jeep for a minute, talking.

      When Angelica turned away, she realized that Xavier could see her here if he looked out the window. Hopefully he was too deep into fort-building to notice, but she wasn’t ready to see him and she couldn’t take the risk. She headed out to the kennels at a jog. Grabbed one of the pit bulls she’d been working with, a black-and-white beauty named Sheena, attached a leash to her and started walking down the field road as unwanted, annoying tears came faster and faster.

      She sank to her knees beside a wooden fence post, willing the tears to stop, hugging the dog that licked her cheek with canine concern.

       “Get yourself together, girlie. Nobody said life’s a tea party.”

      Gramps’ words, harsh but kindly meant, had guided her through the storms of adolescence and often echoed in her mind.

      Today, for some reason, they didn’t help. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pray, but the tears kept coming.

      After long moments, one of the verses she’d memorized during Xavier’s treatment came into her mind.

       Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.

      Slowly, peace, or at least resignation, started to return. But every time she thought about Xavier and how disappointed he’d be, the tears overflowed again.

      A hand gripped her shoulder, making her start violently. “You that upset about Buck?” Troy asked.

      She shook her head, fighting for control. It wasn’t about Buck, not really. He was a small disappointment in the midst of a lot of big ones, but it was enough to push her over the edge. She couldn’t handle the possibility of losing Xavier, the only good thing in her life, and yet she had to handle it. And she had to stay strong and positive for him.

      It was pretty much her mantra. She breathed in, breathed out. Stay strong, she told herself. Stay strong.

      A couple of minutes later she was able to accept Troy’s outstretched hand and climb to her feet. He took the dog leash from her and handed her an ancient-looking, soft bandanna. “It’s not pretty, but it’s clean.”

      She nodded and wiped her eyes and nose and came back into herself enough to be embarrassed at how she must look. She wasn’t one of those pretty, leak-a-few-tears criers; she knew her eyes must be red and puffy, and she honked when she blew her nose. “Sorry,” she said to him.

      “For what?”

      She shook her head, and by unspoken agreement they started walking. “Sorry to break down.”

      “You’re entitled.”

      The sun was setting now, sending pink streaks across the sky, and a slight breeze cooled the air. Crickets harmonized with bullfrogs in a gentle rise and fall. Angelica breathed in air so pungent with hay and summer flowers that she could almost taste it, and slowly the familiar landscape brought her calm.

      “You know,” Troy ventured after a few minutes, “Buck Armstrong’s not really worth all that emotion. Not these days. If I’d known you were this into dating him, I might have warned you he has a drinking problem.”

      She laughed, and that made her cry a little more, and she wiped her eyes. “It’s not really about Buck.”

      He didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’ve got a lot on your plate.”

      “I’ve got a plan, is what I’ve got,” she said, “and I was hoping Buck could be a part of it.” Briefly, she explained her intention of finding a stand-in dad for Xavier.

      Troy shook his head. “That’s not going to work.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “He’s a smart kid. He’ll know. You can’t just pretend you’re dating someone so that he’ll think he’s getting a dad.”

      “I can if I want to.” They came to a crossroads and she glanced around. “I’m not ready to go back home and admit defeat yet, and I don’t want him looking out the window and seeing me cry.”

      “Come the back way, by the kennel.”

      Sheena, the dog she’d brought with her, jumped at a squirrel, and Troy let her off the lead to chase it. She romped happily, ears flopping.

      “So you think getting a dad will make Xavier happy? Even if it’s a fake dad?”

      “It’s not fake! Or, well, it is, but for a good reason.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the picture she always carried, Xavier in happier times. “Look at that face! For all I know, he’ll never be really healthy again.” She cleared her throat. “If I can make his life happy, I’m going to do it.”

      He studied the picture. “He played Little League?”

      She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. “T-ball. He’d just started when he was diagnosed. He had one season.”

      “He started young.”

      She nodded. “They let him start a few weeks before his birthday, even though officially they aren’t supposed to start until they turn four.”

      “Because he was sick?”

      She shook her head. “Because he was so good. He loved it.” Tears rushed to her eyes СКАЧАТЬ