Chance McCall (32 page)

17

The phone rang
. Victoria rolled over in the darkness and grabbed the receiver before a second ring woke the boys. It had taken forever to get them to bed. They were too wound up from their grandfather’s unexpected arrival at dinner time and the wild game of touch football that had followed.

“Hello,” she said. Her voice was low, and relaxed. “No, I wasn’t asleep. I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

“I miss you, Vicky,” Ken Oslow said, listening to the sleepy tone in his wife’s voice.

“I miss you, too, honey,” she said. “You being gone now couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

“Are the boys giving you fits about the postponed trip…or is it more?”

She sighed. “It’s more. I wish you were here. I need moral support. I feel so guilty about not telling Daddy that Chance is back. But, it’s as I told you last night, Chance really doesn’t remember us. Not anyone or…anything.”

“Are you sure?” Ken couldn’t disguise the bit of jealousy that crept into his question. He’d spent too many years trying to get over the fact that his wife’s first love had been her half-brother. Innocent as their relationship had been, it had still been emotionally deep, and he knew it. Victoria had hidden nothing from him. That honesty was what had saved their own relationship, and ultimately, made their marriage last.

Victoria heard the doubt in his voice. Her heart went out to the man who’d loved her past understanding. When most boys would have turned their backs on a girl who’d tried to commit suicide, he’d been the glue that had put her life back together. And when she’d finally healed, both in body and spirit, she had realized how deeply she’d learned to love the tall, sandy-haired young man with the gentle smile and soft brown eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “In fact, I think I scared him to death when I first confronted him. He’s really been through a bad time from his injuries. And I never realized until now how much we all rely on bits and pieces of our pasts to make us who we are. Think about it! How can you focus on tomorrow when you have no anchor from yesterday? Know what I mean?”

Ken listened, and in his mind he understood. It was just his heart that was having difficulties.

He was quiet a bit too long for Victoria’s peace of mind.

“Ken?”

“What, honey?” he asked.

“You would like him.”

Another silence lingered and then she heard his sigh.

“If he’s anything like you, I probably would.”

Victoria laughed. The sound surprised him.

“What’s so funny?” Ken asked.

“Chance is the spitting image of Daddy.”

“Good Lord! I hope that’s in looks only.”

She laughed again. “It is,” she assured him. “I wouldn’t have…” She stopped herself.

“You mean, you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him in the first place if he’d been anything like Logan. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I started to say. He’s kind, and thoughtful. And full of fun. At least…he used to be, before my family ruined his life.”

Ken sighed. “Now Victoria, don’t dredge up old guilt. You’re not responsible. I told you once, and I’ll say it again, the sins of the fathers may fall on children’s heads, but the children don’t cause the sins to occur in the first place.”

“I know.” She hesitated, wanting him to change the subject. “It’s too late at night to get this serious.”

Ken understood. As always, he knew exactly what to say to lighten the mood.

“Logan’s gonna hate the fact that one of his wild seeds took root and grew up so much in his image that he couldn’t deny it.”

Victoria smiled. “As usual, you’re right. And the sad fact is, that’s what Chance hated the most. When he found out the truth, denying it was impossible. He was younger, of course, but even then the resemblance was there. How do you deny your own face?”

She thought back to that time, and wondered again, as she had so many times before, why she’d never seen it then. The only answer she’d ever been able to live with was that she hadn’t been looking for it.

“He should be glad he doesn’t look like you, honey,” Ken said. “I don’t think a pretty face like yours would be becoming on a man.”

She turned her face into the pillow and giggled, trying not to alert the boys to their father’s call. That would have them both up and out of bed, begging to talk.

“I’ll call you tomorrow night, honey, just to find out how your day went,” Ken said.

“Good. And then when you get back, I’m inviting Chance and Jenny out and you can meet…”

“Who’s Jenny?”

“Oh, that’s right! I forgot to tell you. She’s his girlfriend…or fiancée…whatever the case may be at this time. And…I like her…I think. We haven’t spent any time together, but I’m looking forward to it.”

“He has a girl? Good! I’m liking him better already.”

“Oh Kenny,” she whispered, “you’ll always make me feel special. You act as if you’re still jealous. After all these years, and our ages, and babies, I’m not as…”

“You’re beautiful. You always have been. You always will be. You’re my girl, Vicky. Don’t ever doubt it. I love you.”

The words of support were just what she needed to hear.

“I won’t, darling,” she said. “And sleep tight. I love you too. I’ll look forward to your call.”

They disconnected. Victoria could actually feel the last, lingering, little wish of “what if” slip out of her heart forever. If Chance hadn’t been her brother, she would still have regretted not knowing and loving Ken Oslow. He was one of a kind.

Logan Henry did something he shouldn’t. He knew it the moment he left his daughter’s house and turned toward Odessa instead of his own home, but the need to know kept driving him crazy.

Before he had time to change his mind, he was driving toward the old motel, almost certain that he’d find a red pickup truck parked in the lot. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he’d eaten too much and then played too hard with the twins. It was difficult to face the fact that he wasn’t so young anymore.

The motel came into view. He slowed down, stared into the shadowy parking lot, and then cursed. There were several cars and two pickup trucks. But none of them were red.

“Damn!” He slammed the steering wheel with his fist and gunned his car down the street.

A police car cruising past flicked his lights at him, telling him in as nice a manner as possible, without pulling him over, that he’d better slow down or else. He eased up on the gas. What he didn’t need now was a ticket. But, he convinced himself, what he did need was a drink. He turned down another street, cruising the strip until he found the establishment he’d been looking for.

The New Brewery was a popular watering hole. The parking lot was crowded, which meant the interior of the place would be the same. That was fine with him. Noise and booze were just what he needed to get his mind off the demons taunting him.

“Hey, there,” he said, in answer to a woman’s wave of recognition. Tonight might prove fruitful in more ways than one. He grinned, ordered a drink from a girl who came sailing by with a tray full of glasses, and slipped some money in her hip pocket for good measure. He felt better already.

Jenny leaned back in her chair, looked at her empty plate, and sighed. “I’ve never been so full in my life. This was too good. I ate as if I hadn’t seen food in a week. Did I embarrass you?”

“Honey, the only way you’ll ever embarrass me is…” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, delighting in the flush of red that swept across her cheeks, obvious even in the dim lighting.

“Well now,” she said, giving him back as good as he gave, “I think I can manage that.” She wagged her finger beneath his nose, “but I need to work off some of this food first. Let’s either go for a walk or…I know…Let’s go dancing! Do you know that I’ve never danced with you?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “No, darlin’, you know damn good and well that I don’t know that. And, as usual, I’m at your mercy. What if I can’t dance? Did you ever think of that?”

“I don’t believe it for a minute,” Jenny said. “You spent too many Saturday nights somewhere besides in my arms. Besides…”

She grinned. He felt it coming.

“…you’re too good in bed not to be good on your feet.”

Chance leaned back in his chair and roared with laughter. Several people turned and smiled. Jenny ignored them, waiting for Chance to deny what she’d just said. But he didn’t.

“Where do we go?” she asked him.

“Where do you want to go, miss?” the waiter asked, as he walked up and handed Chance the check.

“Dancing.” Chance grinned. “The lady wants to go dancing.”

“There’s a lot of good places available,” the waiter said. “There’s Cheers, and Chelsea’s Street Pub, and The New Brewery, and…”

“The New Brewery. That sounds like a possibility,” Jenny said. “The New Brewery, for new beginnings.”

“The Brewery it is. Now tell me how to get there. I’ve got to take a woman dancing.”

“This is great!” Jenny said, as they walked into the dimly lit din. The music was blaring, the floor was packed, and the crowd was lively.

“Yes, if we can find a table,” Chance yelled into her ear.

“Need a table?” a waitress asked.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Jenny said.

“I don’t think that refers to tables in bars, darlin’.”

They followed the waitress to a corner of the room. She took their order and then disappeared.

Jenny looked around, absorbing the ambiance. It was the same, world over. Where country music was playing, the couples were in each other’s arms. They were smart enough to realize that up close and personal was a whole lot better than dancing apart.

“Seen enough?” Chance asked.

“Cowboy, either hold me, or cut me loose and let me roam,” Jenny said. Her feet were already tapping in time to the music.

“You don’t roam for anyone but me, darlin’,” Chance said as he swung her into his arms and into the two-step rhythm of the song.

The music played on. The couples danced. Jenny and Chance were lost in the loud and noisy chaos of the night, and in each other.

After more than two hours passed, Jenny was finally winding down from her dancing high. Chance was tired, but not tired of holding Jenny.

Dancing with her had been another revelation. He hadn’t known that fleeting touches of his hand across her curvy backside, her breasts brushing gently against his chest as they swayed in time to the music, or the intermittent contact between their thighs, could be such a turn-on. But he did now.

He didn’t need her naked and begging to make him want her. He didn’t even have to have her alone. Here they were, surrounded by a maelstrom of milling couples, dressed from neck to ankle in jeans and shirts, and he was hurting like hell.

But something was bothering him, and it had nothing to do with Jenny. For a long time, he’d had the strangest sensation that he was being watched. And it wasn’t a clinical kind of observation. It felt personal—an “I know who you are,” sensation.

Logan sat in a chair against the wall, holding the same drink he’d ordered when he first arrived. He was all but frozen to the spot, staring at the tall man with the pretty, dark-haired woman who kept passing his table as they circled the small dance floor.

The pain in his chest kept reminding him that he hadn’t died on the spot. Hell! he thought to himself,
I thought you were through with me, didn’t I, boy
?

And then he caught himself. This person was no boy. The boy had become a man…and quite a man at that. He slammed the drink down on the table and it sloshed all over his fingers, making the couple beside him stare and frown in disapproval.

“What are you lookin’ at?” he growled, and waved at the waitress who quickly replenished his order.

What really made Logan Henry sick was that he was looking at the one thing he’d always wanted. A son. He’d known for such a long time that he had one but had refused to claim him. He had let the boy fend for himself in the worst possible atmosphere, and he’d done the boy’s mother an injustice. In his heart, he knew it. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not to Margaret, his ex-wife, and not to Victoria. And especially not to the one who’d needed to hear it most, his own son.

When he’d first seen Chance walking through the throng of dancers, he thought he’d imagined it. He couldn’t be so lucky as to have the object of his search actually walk in and sit down in the same room with him. But having his fears confirmed, that the man was here, didn’t make them better. It only made him wonder why Chance McCall had come back to Odessa.

Now he had new fears. What would this do to Victoria? Once he’d nearly beaten the boy to death. He’d later regretted it, but it had been too late. Now he feared another confrontation, but this time, he wouldn’t be beating anyone. This man, his son, was taller, broader, and a damn sight younger than he. What was making him furious was that the bastard could become king of the hill, and Logan Henry wasn’t ready to step aside for any man.

“Chance?” Jenny asked as the last notes of a song faded away.

“What, darlin’?” He leaned down to catch her question.

“Who’s that man?” She pointed toward the opposite side of the room.

“What man?” Then, through the dim light, Chance caught the stare. It was fixed and threatening…and familiar. A sensation of déjà vu crossed his mind.

Logan knew they’d seen him. It was time. Maybe it would take nothing but money to get rid of the problem. He stood up and started across the dance floor, blind to everything but the couple against the other wall, and walked straight into a waitress carrying a full tray of drinks.

The tray went flying, and the drinks followed. Three tables and the patrons seated there were drenched. The uproar that followed engulfed Logan Henry.

“Come on, honey,” Chance said. “I don’t know what his problem was. Maybe he was just looking for a fight. If he was, he found what he was looking for.”

He hustled Jenny quickly out of the club before the little fracas got bigger. Besides, he still had a problem to work out, and it was growing by the minute. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to ease the pressure behind his zipper, and then grinned as Jenny slid her hand up his thigh.