Daddy's Home. Debra Kastner
it any wonder she would have such a polar reaction at seeing him again?
How could she not? It was only natural, after all, for her to have lingering feelings for a man who was such a large part of her past. Some of her happiest memories were with Christopher Jordan, and that was something his recent actions couldn’t take away.
“My feelings don’t matter,” she said at last, shaking her head. “This isn’t about me.” She paused and took a deep breath, giving the bassinet a pointed look. “He wants to see Sammy. For all I know, he wants to take him away. And somehow, I’ve got to figure out a way to stop him.”
Gram slowly stood and stretched, then shuffled to Jasmine’s side, placing a consoling arm around her shoulders.
That the arm around her didn’t have the power of former years mattered not a bit. Strength flowed from the elder to the younger with an intensity that only came from inner peace.
“I know this is hard for you, dear,” she said, patting Jasmine’s shoulder as she would to comfort a child. “But don’t ignore your feelings. They are God given. Pray about it. Search your heart. And, Jasmine?”
“Mmm?”
“Talk to Christopher.”
“Talk to him?” she screeched, her anger returning in spades. “Gram, I never thought you’d be on his side, after what happened to Jenny! Why should I talk to him?”
Gram’s eyebrows creased as she frowned. “Don’t you speak to me that way, young lady,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “I may be eighty, but I can still take you over my knee!”
Jasmine stepped back, surprised, then broke into a tired laugh, serving as a valve for the release of her anger. Gram was right, of course.
She hugged her grandmother as hard as the older woman’s frail bones would allow. “I’m sorry,” she said, her heart contrite. “I’m just confused. I’m sure I’ll be all right after I pray about it.” The words slipped out of her mouth from years of training, and she just wanted to bite her tongue. Pray about it, indeed.
Gram nodded, not appearing to notice the grimace Jasmine made. “I’ll pray, too. It’s the best we can do. The first thing, and the best. It’ll all work out. In God’s way, and in God’s timing. We just have to look to Him and trust that He knows what’s best.”
Well, on that point, anyway, Jasmine couldn’t agree more. God, if there was one, must certainly have something spectacular planned, or else He had a very peculiar sense of humor. If only she knew what He had in mind—and what role she was to play.
Christopher pulled a hard right off the gravel mountain road and drove into the brush, not caring that the pine trees were probably scratching the truck’s exterior. When he was in far enough that he couldn’t see the road, he slammed the gear into Park and shut down the engine.
This wasn’t the way he’d meant it to be. He thumped a closed fist against the steering wheel. He hadn’t meant to alienate Jasmine with the first words out of his mouth. What a big lug he was. Talk first, stick his big, dirty boots in his mouth afterward. He could certainly add his first encounter with her in a year to his ever-growing list of failures.
This one, however, he had to take full credit for. Much of what happened to him wasn’t in his control, a part of God’s will he couldn’t understand. But this was completely his own doing, and he’d blown it big time. Not exactly a surprise, with his track record.
He’d been so certain he was meant to come back to Westcliffe. What else could he do? He loved Jasmine. He always had. To think of living without her—and Sammy—was unbearable.
But if his first encounter with her was anything to go by, he had a long way to travel to get back in her good graces. Her closed attitude left him shaken and unsure of himself. She didn’t even try to hide how much she loathed seeing him again.
He lifted his hat and raked his fingers through the short ends of his hair. Frustration seethed through every nerve ending until his whole body tingled.
All he wanted to do was see Sammy, not run off with the boy like some criminal, though that’s how he’d been treated. And Sammy had been in that bungalow. He’d heard the baby’s cry and the soothing sounds of Jasmine’s grandmother coming from the other room. What kind of a fool did she think he was?
The point of it—and that’s what hurt—was that Jazz didn’t want him to see the baby.
He understood her hesitance. He’d done a lot of things that needed explaining. But in the meantime, he’d hoped their years together would count for something.
He wasn’t foolish enough to expect that he would be able to knock on her door and resume their relationship, where it had broken off before she’d gone off to med school, but couldn’t she at least listen to him?
“Ha!” he said aloud, the sound echoing in the small cab of his truck. She hadn’t listened to him then, and she wouldn’t listen now.
Especially now. She wouldn’t trust him any more than any other of Westcliffe’s residents did. Far less, even, for she had more reasons to doubt him than the small town that virtually shunned his existence now that he was back.
The neighbors he could live without. Jasmine, he couldn’t.
He’d hurt the woman he loved most in the world, and the knowledge sat like lead in his stomach. It was a burden he’d been carrying since the day she’d turned away from him and walked right out of his life. The day the world discovered he would soon be a father.
Jasmine thought he’d betrayed her, and mincing words didn’t change anything. Pain seared through his chest.
He wasn’t denying his actions, no matter how questionable the whole thing was in his mind. What else could he have done, under the circumstances? He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought Jasmine would understand, that she’d want him to take the actions he’d decided on for Jenny’s sake.
But she wouldn’t even listen. What she’d learned, she hadn’t learned from him, and he would regret that for the rest of his life. He should have made the trip to Denver as soon as he found out about Jenny. But there was so much to do, and not much time in which to do it.
He’d been so wrapped up in the tailspin his life had taken that he’d put it off, thinking he’d approach Jasmine when the ruckus had died down. After he’d taken care of the necessities, and before she’d heard the truth from someone else.
She still didn’t know the truth. He’d hoped to tell her today.
He’d even hoped she’d forgive him. It was part of what drove him back to town—to ask her forgiveness for his part in the tragedy that had become their lives, and to ask for a second chance.
It was obviously not going to happen that way. He clamped his teeth together until he could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. What he wanted didn’t matter. Not yet, and maybe not ever.
He had another responsibility—Sammy, the baby he’d never seen. He wasn’t going to let that boy down. And if that meant postponing the inevitable confrontation with Jasmine on personal issues, so be it.
His resolution did, however, present a unique set of circumstances, since he had to go through Jasmine to get to Sammy. Emotional issues aside, Jasmine was a formidable woman. If she decided to make things rough for him, there was no doubt in his mind she would succeed.
Which meant he had to convince her otherwise. Make her see reason. They needed to put the past aside, sit down together and discuss the issues like the adults they were.
This wasn’t some high school spat they could just ignore and expect to go away. They were dealing with the welfare of a child. For all intents and purposes, his child.
His throat tightened. He had actually been relieved to hear Jasmine had been appointed Sammy’s legal guardian, though he would never tell