Texas Rebels: Jude. Linda Warren

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      The first thing he’d noticed at the cemetery was that she’d lost a lot of weight. Away from her criticizing mother, she must’ve stopped the binge junk-eating. She was now slim and her hair was more blond than brown. It suited her. Her face still held that same sweet innocence that had first attracted him to her. But now there was a maturity about her that was just as attractive.

      Never Never Land never looked so good.

      She got up and ran to him, then wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. The scent of lilac soap wafted to him. He froze, which was more the reaction of the teenage boy he used to be. But the man in him recognized all those old feelings that had bound him to her years ago. Maybe some things just never changed.

      When he didn’t return the hug, she went back to the table and he eased onto the bench across from her, removing his hat. The wind rustled through the tall oaks and he took a moment to gather his thoughts. It was like gathering bits and pieces from his past to guide him. What should he say? What should he do?

      “You look good,” she said. “You filled out. The teenage boy I used to date doesn’t seem to exist anymore.”

      “He grew up, and so have you. I hardly recognized you at the cemetery. The young girl of long ago has matured into a beautiful woman.”

      “Thank you.” She tilted her head slightly to smile at him and his heart raced like a wild mustang’s at the look he remembered well. “You were always good for my ego.”

      He didn’t shift or act nervous. He couldn’t do that now. He had to be the man he was supposed to be. For Zane. And for himself.

      “I’m sorry about your mom.”

      She shrugged. “Thanks. She’s at peace now.”

      “So you’ve forgiven her for all the crappy stuff?”

      “It’s hard to hold on to all that bitterness. After Staci put her in the mental hospital, we found out her erratic behavior was because of the injuries to her head and spine in the accident that killed my grandparents. Alcohol only made it worse.”

      “I knew there had to be a reason for the way she acted.” They were getting bogged down in ordinary conversation when he wanted to talk about something else entirely. “How’s California?”

      “Great. I’m busy, so I don’t get to see a lot of it. But I’ve enjoyed my stay there.”

      “I’m glad you had the chance to make your dream come true.” He really meant that with all his heart. But a small part of him wanted her to love him enough to have stayed and raised their son together.

      “Do you still work on the ranch?” she asked quickly, as if she wanted to change the subject.

      “Yes. I’ll always be a cowboy.”

      She fiddled with her hands in her lap. “I heard you have a son.” Her eyes caught his and all the guilt hit him, blindsiding him.

      “Yes.” Our son. The one you gave away.

      She looked off to the tall oaks and the branches swaying in the breeze. “Do...do...you ever think about our child?”

      His stomach roiled with a familiar ache. “Every day.” He didn’t try to avoid the subject, because he knew they’d have to discuss it thoroughly.

      “I think about the baby all the time. I can’t seem to shake all those guilty feelings and...and I think we made a mistake.”

      His gut tensed. “Why do you say that? We talked about it a lot and you said you could handle the feelings. You said the fact that our child would have a good home would be enough for you. What made you change your mind?”

      She placed a hand over her heart. “I just have this need to know if I have a son or a daughter. We should have asked. We should have held our child. As a young girl, I was arrogantly boastful that I could handle all those emotions and all those feelings. I was wrong. It almost destroyed me.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I cried all the way to California and I cried for days afterward. I couldn’t get over it. But that’s in the past.” She waved a hand to dismiss it. “I wanted to talk to you because I was hoping you felt the same and would want to know if we had a son or a daughter. Would you be willing to go with me to talk to Mrs. Carstairs? Maybe she would tell us if we both went.”

      “Paige...”

      “I know you have a different life now and I don’t want to interfere with that. But I have to know. Do you understand that?”

      He didn’t understand anything and he certainly hadn’t expected this from her at this late date. He hadn’t expected any guilty feelings from the woman whose career meant everything to her and who’d been positive she could handle the emotions. He searched for words to tell her the truth but they stuck in his throat like a wad of cotton.

      “If both of us went, she might tell us if the baby was a boy or girl. We’re not asking for our child back, just information. I’d really like to know if our child is happy. Don’t you want to know these things?”

      We have a son and he’s with me. I’ve had him since the day after he was born. Simple words. Painful words. All he had to do was say them and it would ease her mind. He took a deep breath and tried to force the words out. Before he could, his cell buzzed. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out and saw it was Zane’s school. He clicked the call on immediately.

      “Excuse me,” he said to Paige and got to his feet.

      “Mr. Rebel, this is Sharon Thompson, Principal Bowers’s secretary.”

      “Is there a problem?”

      “We had an incident at school this morning and the principal would like for you to come in as soon as you can.”

      “Is my son okay?”

      “Yes.”

      “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

      He shoved his phone back into his pocket and then picked up his hat. “I’m sorry—I have to go. Can we meet later?”

      “I’m staying for two weeks. We’re going to clean out our old house and put it on the market. You can catch me over there. Here’s my cell number.”

      “Good. I’ll see you then.” He marched off without a backward glance, worried about his son. What had happened? Zane was never in trouble.

      Jude made it to the school in record time. The school was shaped like a horseshoe. The administration office was in the center, with grades one through six on the left and grades seven through twelve on the right. The gym and cafeteria were in the back. The Horseshoe school system had always been in one spot, but the school was bursting at the seams because the town’s population was growing. Soon they would have to have portable buildings to house some of the students.

      He went through the double doors into the school. The principal’s office was straight ahead and he hurried there. The halls were empty and the big clock on the wall said it was only five after ten.

      “Jude.”

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