Roped and Tied [Wayback, Texas Series] Page 5

  Jericho looked into the paper bag and withdrew a blue terry robe, some snap up shorts that would go over his bandage. And books. Eden was one of the few people who enjoyed reading as much as he.

  He examined the robe. “Great now, I won't have to wear the gowns with no backs.” She had cut off the price tag, of course. Jericho knew that probably meant she had spent too much money on it and wanted to destroy the evidence.

  Jericho pulled off the hospital gown and shrugged on the soft robe. Luckily, he had just the end of the IV needle still in his arm. At the moment he was free of intravenous fluids so his arm was unattached to the pole beside the bed.

  "Is Eden still here?” He tried not to sound hopeful.

  "No.” The answer was short and sharp.

  So Craig had dated Eden. He gave Craig a look of scrutiny. Craig Henson was a solid looking man. His physique was from the gym not backbreaking labor. Jericho had never been able to get that muscular. He always seemed to hover between too thin and lean.

  "So when did you two date?"

  Craig gave a little laugh. “After she quit working at the hospital. She needed a friend more than anything.” He walked to the door. “Eden said she would stop by on the way home. Your family is waiting outside. I'll tell them they can visit now."

  Craig turned on the torture device that was bending his leg at an ever increasing angle. Jericho's knee had been completely reconstructed and the machine kept the joint moving.

  Dylan's six-year-old daughter Grace was the first through the door and she grabbed the controller for the television.

  "Grace, give me that remote.” Dylan ordered.

  Great. Just the scintillating drama Jericho needed for the day.

  "I want to watch cartoons.” Grace was smacking her gum.

  Jericho opened his eyes. Naming that little hellion Grace was about as appropriate as calling a pit bull Muffin.

  "You think if I poke him he'll feel it?” Grace peered over the bed railings her finger at the ready.

  "If you value that finger Grace, you won't poke me with it."

  Her eyes widened then she smiled a big snaggletooth grin. “Grandma runned over you good."

  "Ran, Grace, ran. You know Jer, when you fell through the floor of the bathroom and broke your arm when you were in high school I thought that took the cake, but this...” Dylan shook his head.

  "Shut up, Dylan. Aren't you supposed to be working or something? As for me falling though the floor, if you hadn't gone to sleep in the tub with the water running, the floor wouldn't have rotted."

  "We'll if you hadn't been in there doing that Tom Cruise underwear dance to Bob Seger it wouldn't have fallen.” Dylan jerked his head toward the door. “Mom's in the waiting room. She was afraid to come in."

  Jericho growled.

  "Go get her, Grace.” Dylan said.

  Dylan hadn't been through what he had been through as a child. Jericho could remember when she'd arrived home so drunk she couldn't find the toilet, much less the bathroom. He'd been all of five when she'd left him alone with Dylan for the weekend.

  Billie Jo had been a horrible mother. She had only cared for herself. That was what had drawn him so to Eden. She only cared for others. She'd always put everyone else's needs above her own. Like when she quit the job she loved to care for Jeb. And when she didn't tell him he was a father to save his career. He closed his eyes at the realization. She'd done it for him.

  "Are you hurting that bad?” Dylan stood by his bed.

  "Yeah.” He adjusted the bed to a sitting position.

  "Jericho?” His mother's cute little voice cut through the silence. The best thing she had ever done as a parent was to leave her boys with their grandmother while she went off to find herself. Instead she'd found AA and had been on an uphill climb since.

  "Yes, Mother?” He spoke with all the weary patience of a tired parent addressing a wayward teenager. At forty-nine, Billy Jo still had a youthful figure and a girlish air about her. In his critical opinion she wore her currently red and perennially permed hair in a style much too young for her age. Blue jeans hugged her legs a bit too closely but at least her tucked-in shirt didn't have the name of a bar slapped across the front of it. She walked toward him like repentant child.

  "I am so sorry, honey. You know your mama would never intentionally run you over. I thought I had it in go..."

  "It's drive. And I think it's best if we don't have this discussion at this time."

  "Sure.” She nodded. “But one thing..."

  "Not another word,” he warned in a low voice.

  "I'm just glad you're not squished or dead."

  Gracie sat in the hospital recliner. She put the foot rest up and down and up and down.

  "Me, too.” Jericho agreed.

  "Grace. If you do that one more time, you are not going to go with me to the rodeo this weekend,” Dylan warned. She kept on moving the chair up and down.

  "For the love of God, Grace, stop.” Jericho hadn't meant to say that.

  Jericho was amazed. Grace sat still. It was nothing short of a miracle.

  "For the record,” Dylan turned to him. “On the back of any tow truck there's a little thing called a winch. You could have called..."

  Jericho glared. “If you know what's good for you, you won't finish that statement. I didn't think I needed it, Dylan."

  "Oh I almost forgot. Stephanie has called your cell phone about twenty times hoping to speak with you. She was really bent out of shape over what happened with Boyd."

  "They say good news travels fast,” Jericho quipped.

  "She's going to call the hospital.” Dylan said.

  "Great. Now Stephanie.” He shook his head. “This day just keeps getting better and better."

  "Stephanie was very worried about you. She thought she should fly and keep you company."

  "No!” He hit his forehead with his balled up fist. “Not Steph, not now."

  "Why?” Dylan held his arms out wide in his best attempt at innocence.

  "Daddy, can I have this for my dolls? It would make a good boat.” Gracie held a stainless steel urinal in her hands. Jericho and Dylan both responded swiftly in unison.

  "No!"

  "Here, Mom,” Dylan took his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a twenty. “I need to talk to Jericho for a second without little fingers here. Take Gracie to the cafeteria and get her some something to eat. And wash her hands, for heaven's sake.” He stared at his mother's blank expression. “Take the elevator to the first floor. The cafeteria is on the right as you exit the elevator. If you get lost, ask for directions. I'll be down in about twenty minutes."

  "Okay.” She smiled.

  "Come on, Grandma.” Gracie put her tiny hand in her grandmother's. “I know where the cafeteria is at."

  As soon as the females were out of earshot, Dylan turned to him. “Okay what gives? You look horrible and I can tell something is bothering you. Is this more serious than a couple of broken legs?” Dylan crossed tanned arms over his plaid cotton shirt. “You don't need more surgery or anything like that?"

  "No, No.” He cleared his throat. “But..."

  "But what?"

  "I have a son."

  "Oh, shoot. Well, I'm glad Eden finally told you."

  "You knew all along about me being Jeb's father?"

  Dylan blew up his cheeks and released the air. “Yeah. You know all those lectures you gave me when I got Josie pregnant with Gracie about being careful, not letting your body think for you, taking the proper precautions, and being responsible?” Dylan grinned. “You should have listened to yourself."

  "You knew all this time?” Jericho shook his head in disbelief. “And you didn't tell me?"

  "It's not like we have talked a whole lot the last three years. If you didn't feel guilty for missing Grandma's funeral, you wouldn't be here now."

  "That's not true.” Jericho took a deep breath. But it was true. He rubbed his forehead with his left hand. Talk about a wake up call.


  "Eden told me everything from the day her little test turned pink.” Dylan paused. “Well not literally everything, but I knew you were the father."

  "You didn't think I had a right to know?"

  The brothers didn't break eye contact as silence loomed.

  "No, I didn't. You left. Your decision. As far as I was concerned, it was her baby and her decision whether or not to tell you, not mine.” Dylan didn't budge an inch. “Personally, I thought it was the right decision."

  "You didn't have to tell me that.” Jericho looked down, unable to face the little brother who'd once looked up to him. Dylan sure wasn't looking up now. “And now you two expect me to move into your happy little home?” Jericho cut his gaze to the ceiling.

  "I'm all for sticking you on a plane back to Stephanie. This is Eden's doing. Eden has offered you a chance to spend some time with Jeb. You do what you want."

  Jericho closed his eyes tightly. “I don't know what I want to do anymore."

  "You better figure it out.” Dylan's chin notched up in challenge.

  Eden poked her head in the door and interrupted his staring contest with Dylan.

  "Bad timing?” She grimaced.

  "No great timing. Come on in,” Dylan said.

  Eden entered warily with a little boy toddling behind.

  Jeb.

  How many times had Jericho envisioned becoming a father? He'd wanted to be there in the delivery room watching as his child made his debut. But now it wasn't to be. Jeb looked up and grinned. Jericho felt himself choking up a bit. It had to be the pain killers.

  "How are you feeling?” she asked. “Did you like the books?"

  He didn't look at Eden. His eyes were glued to Jeb. “I feel like crap. Yes, the books were great. You didn't need to do that."

  "Sit down, Sweet Cheeks.” Dylan invited.

  Jericho felt like an outsider watching the way Eden and Dylan interacted. Dylan had said there was nothing between them. But there was—that casual atmosphere you only got from friendship. He had always been a little jealous of Dylan's friendship with Eden. He still was.

  "I can't believe you still call her that.” Jericho had forgotten the nickname even though he had been there the day she jumped off the back of her father's pick up truck and the edge of her skirt got caught on a nail. The hem of the dress tail had come up above her head. Dylan had been rolling with laughter. The more she'd frantically tried to pull it down, the more it had stuck. Jericho had held out his hand and helped her back in the truck and released the hem. But in the middle of her struggle from across the yard Dylan had yelled out, “Love those pretty pink drawers! Look at those sweet cheeks.” Ever since then she'd had the nickname.

  "I have asked him to stop calling me that a thousand times."

  "But I won't.” Dylan winked.

  They were so comfortable with each other. Jericho watched his son reach up to Dylan. Dylan was not much more than a large child himself. The three of them looked like a family and he felt very much like an intruder.

  As if sensing his discomfort, Dylan's smile faded.

  "Come here, Jeb. I have someone you need to meet. Look at his big boo boo."

  Jeb turn to him and cocked his little head. “Hurt?” His little lips pouted. “Ouch?"

  "You are right about that kid.” Jericho sat up a bit. “Can I hold him?"

  "Sure.” Dylan sat the toddler on the bed.

  It was a strange thing looking into your eyes on someone else. “Hey buddy. Can you say Dad?"

  "Daddy.” Jeb pointed to Dylan with a wide smile.

  "He copies Grace.” Dylan explained.

  "Yeah.” Jericho let his lips turn up in a humorless smile.

  "He'll get to know you in time.” Eden assured. “Have you considered staying with us a while?"

  "I have a career.” He let the child stand up and winced. Eden came over and relieved him.

  "You won't for the rest of the season.” Eden said. “Come on Jericho. It's a reasonable solution.” She straightened the blanket on the bed.

  "Eden, please, I don't need you, of all people, to mother me.” Jericho bit his lip tensely.

  "Is there something wrong?” Eden looked over to Dylan, of course.

  "Let's see, I've got two broken legs. I'm out for the rest of the season and my son calls my brother ‘Daddy',” Jericho snapped. “Yeah I'd say something's wrong."

  "You don't need to be so nasty,” Dylan snapped back. “If you had been around he'd know who you were."

  "I would have been around, but I didn't know. Either of you could have told me."

  "I didn't tell you because you were married, and because Eden asked me not to.” Dylan's voice rose.

  "You were a success,” Eden added. “I didn't want to spoil it."

  "Dylan, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk with Eden a minute by myself."

  "Fine.” Dylan looked over to Eden. “If he gets too out of control push that little red button. It's morphine. Come on, Little Bit.” Dylan took Jeb in his arms.

  Everything had to be a joke with him. But he left, and took Jeb with him.

  "So why did you make the offer?” Jericho asked Eden once they were alone.

  "It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Eden sat beside his bed. “When your grandmother had her stroke we had a wheelchair ramp put on the back of the house. I figured you could use it. You are welcome to stay at my house. I know it's not home...” She shrugged.

  Funny, he really didn't know where home was anymore. “How can you talk like everything is just fine?"

  "Look it's been a long time. You've changed and I've changed."

  "Eden, you didn't tell me I was a father.” He narrowed his eyes.

  "You didn't want to know,” she bit back.

  "You didn't give me a chance to know!"

  "You left. I never knew what you wanted from one day to the next. One day I was the girl you loved. The next day you were gone. I felt foolish. At first I made all these excuses for you. I took up for you, believing it would be one season with Walton and then you'd come home. I will never forget the day I found out you'd gotten married. It was just after I discovered I was pregnant."

  She took a deep breath and paced a bit. “I am certainly not the same foolish girl you knew and I'm not asking you back into my life. I would, however, like you to be a part of Jeb's life. For his sake, can't we try to be friends? I made mistakes and I apologize. If I could go back, knowing what I know now, maybe I would do things differently.” She faltered, then began again resolutely. “I do know from Dr. Henson that you'll need someone with you. My office is behind my house and I am as close as a phone call. I'm a nurse, for Heaven's sake.” she breathed. “I have a nice downstairs bedroom with its own bathroom. You know my dad's house. That's where I live now. I bought it when he remarried."

  Heaven help him. He had forgotten what she could be like."Stop! You're making my head hurt."

  "I would like you to stay with me."

  "You think it's going to magically make it better? You think it will make up for the fact my son never has had a father and I have been denied my child? I want those years back."

  "I can only start with now and right now I am offering you a chance to live in the same house with your son. I'm offering you a chance to get to know him. Do you want to stay at my place or not?” She spoke through clenched teeth.

  "You're making it sound like a sleep over.” He raked a tired hand through his hair. “Okay, you win, okay? Gee, Eden. Sure I'd love to come to your house. It's not like there's actually much of a choice here, is it?” he admitted.

  She leaned over his bed, so sweet, so Eden, ignoring his anger, and readjusted his blanket. Blond hair fell and curled in wisps around her face. He caught her hand at his chest to move it away and tried not to feel her softness.

  She drew her hand back from his as if his touch had burned her and wrapped her slender fingers around her own bare arms. She stood there looking so beautiful in her demure pink sleeveless sweater and a pa
ir of khaki Capri pants. Even now when he was so mad he could spit nails, he wanted her.

  "You think this is going to make it better?"

  "It has to.” She bit her lower lip.

  "You couldn't tell me? You couldn't pick up the phone and call me?"

  "I didn't have your number. You had mine. If I had been important enough for you to call, you would have known you had a son."

  "So this is my fault?” He shook his head in disbelief.

  "Come on, this was a no win situation. Either way you would have ended up hating me and our child. I knew how much you wanted to make it on your own and I didn't want to ruin that. When you left I was hurt, when you didn't want to marry me I was hurt. When you're twenty-three you see the world through different eyes. I've made a lot of mistakes. I wish I could go back and change some things. I wish I had behaved myself with you, but then I don't, because then I wouldn't have Jeb. I truly wanted to tell you, but then you got married!” She stared out the hospital window.

  He didn't know what was so interesting about the gray gravel-lined roof and air conditioner units.

  She turned back to him and he refused to look at her pleading, hurt puppy eyes.

  "You were so eager to make your own way,” she said. “You were young, ambitious and you were offered the world. I know you didn't want to live in the shadow of my dad's glory. You needed more than that. I couldn't burst your bubble. I figured if you knew, you would either quit your job, move back to Wayback and hate me for it, or I would go live with you and then you'd have me and a baby to support and that would have been a bad situation too. You wanted to be a big success, and, look at you, you are.” she rattled too quickly.

  He looked at his leg held firmly in place by the contraption. “Yeah, I feel like a million bucks.” He picked up the little horse Jeb had taken from one of the many flower arrangements. “Growing up without a father made me want to be all the things my dad wasn't. Number one, part of my child's life. You're right I would have come back and married you."

  "You were already married. I accept full responsibility for my actions. I don't regret having Jeb for one instant. I don't know if I could have made it though all the bad times without him,” she whispered.