A Texas-Made Family

“Can we meet on Friday?”

Grant asked, as he pulled a business card out of his pocket and jotted down his number. “Same time as today and same place.”

“How about one o’clock? Why don’t I bring an extra sandwich for you?” Rebecca was beginning to warm to the idea of seeing him again.

“No. Let me bring the food. My daughter’ so sure I can’t even boil water, I need to prove I’m not a total kitchen klutz.”

Rebecca’s laughter welled up from deep inside and brought colour to her cheeks. “All right, but you’ve got to promise we’ll come up with some kind of plan for the kids. Otherwise I can’t justify meeting you for lunch.”

That dampened his spirits a bit. “I promise,” he murmured. “Between now and Friday, I’ll figure out how to make peace with Ryan. I should be able to relate to him better.”

“I hope so. Our kids are the whole reason for us to see each other. Bye, Grant.” She hurried into the salon where she worked.

As he called out a final goodbye and headed for his car, Grant thought he should have corrected Rebecca’s impression. Their kids weren’t why he wanted to see her again.

Roz Denny Fox has been a RITA® Award finalist and has placed in a number of other contests; her books have also appeared on the Waldenbooks bestseller list. She’s happy to have received her twenty-five-book pin and would one day love to get the pin for fifty books. Roz currently resides in Tucson, Arizona, with her husband, Denny. They have two daughters.

A Texas-Made Family

by

Roz Denny Fox

MILLS & BOON®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Chapter One

REBECCA GEROUX barely made it to the kitchen with her three heavy bags of groceries before one ripped open. Oranges spilled across the counter. Two bounced off and hit the floor. “Lisa!” Rebecca called for her sixteen-year-old-daughter, hoping for some help.

Getting no answer, Rebecca tried her son. “Jordan! Hey, one of you kids had better get in here, or I won’t have time to fix supper before I need to leave.” From the silence that ensued, she knew Jordan hadn’t heard. That wasn’t surprising—he’d had his nose in a book and music blaring from his new iPod as she passed him on the couch. Rebecca didn’t see the appeal of an iPod, but all kids lately seemed to need one. And Jordan had done odd jobs to earn the money for his. Rebecca just hoped the book in his hand was homework.

Gathering up the errant oranges, she dumped them in a fridge drawer. Thank goodness I can multitask, she thought as she stacked canned vegetables on an upper pantry shelf while she filled a large pot with water to boil for spaghetti. Finding a jar of commercial tomato sauce tucked behind the beans, she wrenched it open and poured it into a smaller pan.

Being a single mom who’d worked two jobs for what seemed like forever, Rebecca had long since stopped beating herself up over using shortcuts. She did whatever it took to keep a roof over her family’s heads and food on the table. Not to mention clothes on the body of a teenage boy who grew an inch a month.

It was lucky Lisa waited tables a couple of afternoons a week and the occasional weekend. She babysat, too, for Darcy Blackburn, one of Rebecca’s co-workers at the restaurant. It wasn’t easy, but every penny helped build the college fund Lisa and Rebecca contributed to every week. Lisa was going places. With her straight A’s and work ethic, she was never going to be stuck working two jobs.

“Lisa!” Rebecca yelled again. “Come take over the dinner. I’ve got to change before I leave for the Tumbleweed. At the salon today, I dribbled a big splotch of red hair dye down my blouse. I can’t serve customers like this.”

The side door crashed open, catching Rebecca so off guard she dropped the loaf of French bread she’d just buttered and wrapped in foil.

“For heaven’s sake, Lisa Louise, you scared the living daylights out of me. I thought you were in your room doing homework. Where have you been?”

The pretty blond girl shed her backpack. “Sorry, Mom. I told Jordan to let you know I was taking the late bus home today.” Lisa washed her hands at the sink, then leaned over the stove to peer into the pots. “Spaghetti again?” She wrinkled her nose. “Did you read the article I brought home from health class? Eating all these starchy foods is so fattening.”

Rebecca smoothed a hand down her worn black slacks. “Then it’s a good thing this family burns calories off with hard work.” Handing Lisa a wooden fork, she added dryly, “If you feel the need for extra exercise, you can dance while you stir. Just keep the noodles from sticking. Oh, and don’t put anything down the garbage disposal. It quit again. There goes another hundred bucks.” Rebecca heaved a sigh.

Reaching back into the pantry, she made room for several giant cereal boxes. “So…why did you take the late bus home?”

“We got a new student. Mom, he is totally hot. Ryan Lane. He’s a senior. Actually, he’s been in town a few weeks, but couldn’t start class until the records from his previous school arrived. He’s in my honors English and honors chemistry classes. Mr. Reavis made Ryan my chemistry partner. Ever since Ginny Parker’s dad got transferred to an airbase in Maryland I’ve been the only one doing experiments alone.”

Rebecca shut the cupboard and frowned. Her mind had stalled on the totally hot comment. “So, did Mr. Reavis ask you to stay after class to share your notes with the new boy?”

But Lisa wasn’t listening. “Ryan plays baseball. He’s a pitcher. Coach asked him to try out for the team, and Ryan invited me to watch. Mom, he’s nothing like the other jocks. Ryan’s been going to school in Germany for years. And he has the coolest convertible ever. Baby blue. The exact shade of his eyes,” she murmured, oblivious to the fact that her vigorous stirring had slopped water out of the noodle pot.

“You can’t afford to be distracted by boys, Lisa,” Rebecca chided. “If you expect to get one of these scholarships we researched, you have to keep your grades up and stay in the honors programs. Surely I don’t need to remind you how long it took me to save up for beauty school? And even after I passed the course I couldn’t afford to rent space in a shop right away because I needed all the hours I could get at the Tumbleweed just to pay the bills.”

The girl made a face. “Yeah, yeah. Like you’d ever let me forget. You asked me why I was late, so I’m explaining.”

“I know. I’m trying to be clear about why you can’t lose sight of your goal of going to a really good college.”

“Right. But, Mom, you’ve got to meet Ryan. He’s smart. And nice.”

“Nice is as nice does, young lady. What about his parents? What do you know about them?”

“I think it’s only him, a little sister and his dad. But when I bragged about what a great mom you are, Ryan said he’d like to meet you.”

“Monkey! You think you’ll distract me with flattery? Just remember what I said, okay?” Rolling her eyes, Rebecca began ticking off the chores that Lisa and her brother needed to take care of while she was gone. “Darn, I still have to change this blouse. I’ll get Jordan to set the table.” Rebecca ruffled Lisa’s hair as she left the kitchen.

She had good kids, she reminded herself as she detoured to the laundry room to rub spot cleaner into the stain on her white blouse. She wished she and Lisa could have a more easygoing relationship. But the responsibility for the family’s well-being was all Rebecca’s. Their household ran as smoothly as it did thanks to the rules she’d implemented. One she always insisted on—eating at least two meals a day together in spite of her crazy work schedule. Tossing the blouse in with the rest of the laundry, she prayed it’d come clean as she set the load to wash, and hurried off to find something else to put on.

When everyone was finally seated around the table, Rebecca pumped Jordan about how his classes were going. Lisa didn’t voluntarily mention hers. When pressed, she said, “I’m researching an interesting English paper on early women authors. Did you know some had to use male pseudonyms in order to get published?”

Rebecca listened intently. “Life hasn’t been a walk in the park for women in a lot of fields, Lisa.”

Finishing her meal first, Rebecca rose and rinsed her plate in the sink. “Don’t forget, kids. No using the disposal until I get someone to check it out.”

“When will that be?” Lisa asked. “It smells yucky, too.”

“It won’t be until I can find room in the budget,” Rebecca said, collecting her purse and dropping a quick kiss on each child’s head. “Lock up,” she cautioned out of habit. “I close the restaurant all week, so leave a light on. And, Jordan, no staying up to watch late shows.”

“Mom, we know all that stuff,” Lisa said. “We’re not babies anymore.”

“Humor me, okay? Old habits are tough for old moms to break.”

“You always say that. Forty isn’t old,” Lisa said testily. “Age is a state of mind.”

“Well, then I must be ancient,” Rebecca shot back right before she went out and shut the door.

Her car coughed and died, coughed and died again. At last she coaxed the engine to turn over. Once out on the street, she patted the dashboard. Her car wasn’t getting any younger, either. Every day Rebecca battled San Antonio’s rush-hour traffic as she dashed between two jobs and home. Tonight was no different, but at least she was relatively satisfied that she had her household back on track. Lisa hadn’t mentioned the new boy again. Hallelujah! At least that problem had been successfully nipped in the bud.

REBECCA CONTINUED with that assumption through three idyllic weeks, during which things ran smoothly at the salon, at the restaurant and at home.

On Monday afternoon of the fourth week, however, she got home late because of more car trouble. She rushed into the house, out of sorts from having to wait for the bus after an unsettling call from Lisa’s school counselor. Giving Jordan’s foot a shake as she passed him on the couch, Rebecca said, “The Nissan’s kaput. When I left the salon, it refused to start and I had to have it towed to a repair shop. I’m running really behind. Jordan, are you listening? Get Lisa. I need a private word with her, and then the two of you throw together BLT sandwiches for supper. There’s lettuce and tomato in the fridge. Fix bacon in the microwave. That’s all we have time for tonight, I’m afraid.”

“Lisa’s not home yet. She stayed for the baseball game. Ryan’s the opening pitcher. He said he’d drive her home after the game.”

Rebecca skidded to a halt on the way to her bedroom. “Run that by me again.”

Unfolding his long body from the too-short couch, Jordan peered at his watch. “Lisa thought she’d beat you home. Usually she does. Today’s game must’ve gone into extra innings.”

“Are you saying this isn’t the first time your sister’s stayed after school for a baseball game?”

“Yeah. She watches the home varsity games. She’d like to sign up for the rooter bus, but she thinks you’d have a fit.”

“That explains why her counselor called me at work. She’s concerned about a sudden slip in Lisa’s grades. Listen, Jordan, I need to take a quick shower. Then you and I will walk over to the school. I haven’t got a clue where the ball diamond is. You can show me.”

“Aw, Mom. What’s the big deal? Lisa’s a brainiac. What’s the harm if she goofs off a bit?” Jordan’s question was drowned out by the slam of his mother’s bedroom door.

Following a very short shower indeed, Rebecca rushed back to the living room. Her coral-colored hair was darker than normal because she’d skipped drying it. She ignored the water spots on the light blue blouse she was tucking into a navy twill skirt.

Jordan launched a second argument against walking to the high school. “It’s a dumb idea, Mom,” he said, “Ryan could take a different route home and miss us alto—” He broke off when a key rattled in the lock and the door opened. Jordan raised a warning eyebrow at his sister, who was completely absorbed in something her companion was saying.

The boy trailing Lisa into the house towered over her by more than a head. He wore a dirt-streaked ball uniform and his nut-brown hair had a windblown, precision cut. No run-of-the-mill barbershop cut, Rebecca noted. But it was the kid’s possessive hand on her daughter’s waist that sent Rebecca’s mind reeling.

“Oh, hi, Mom,” Lisa said belatedly. “I didn’t see your car. I…uh, didn’t think you were home.” Grabbing her new friend’s hand, Lisa dragged him fully into the room. “Ryan’s game ran late. He won it with his brilliant pitching.” Lisa sent him a dazzling smile. “The coach let Ryan pitch the whole game. And he struck out the last three batters. Ryan, this is my mother, Rebecca Geroux. Mom, Ryan Lane, Central High’s pitching star.” Lisa didn’t bother to hide how enamored she was of the boy, who appeared to accept her admiration as his due.

Lisa babbled on, unaware of her mother’s growing tension. “I happened to mention to Ryan that our garbage disposal quit and is starting to smell really gross, Mom. He said he installed one in their house in Germany. He’s offered to look at ours to see if it’s worth fixing, or if we need to replace it. Either way, his labor’s free.”

Ryan held out his hand to Rebecca. “Happy to finally meet you, Mrs. Geroux. Lisa’s told me a lot of nice things about you.” His smile and the way he knew all the right things to say felt calculated to Rebecca. He seemed far too carefree to suit her.

Oh, yes, the counselor’s phone call suddenly made perfect sense. Lisa looked at the kid as if he made the sun rise and set. Ryan Lane was to blame for Lisa’s inattention to her schoolwork.

Rebecca had once married a boy with an engaging smile and a sense of entitlement. She had no intention of allowing Lisa to fall into the same trap.

Closing her eyes briefly, Rebecca dug deep to ground herself in the present. She didn’t want to remember the day she’d been forced to flee from Jack Geroux and find safety for herself and Lisa in a shelter. She’d learned the hard way that smiles and empty promises spelled disaster for a girl with no money of her own and far too little education.

When Rebecca opened her eyes again, all she could see was Ryan Lane’s arrogance. She couldn’t bring herself to shake his hand. For Lisa’s sake, Rebecca wanted this boy—Ryan—to disappear.

“Mom?” Lisa gripped Ryan’s left arm, but she’d begun to gnaw her lip in consternation at her mother’s silence.

Rallying at last, Rebecca found her voice and steeled herself. She abruptly stepped between them, effectively separating Lisa from the cocky interloper. “Excuse me, you’ll have to go. I need to leave for work, and with you bringing Lisa home so late our evening routine has been disrupted. While we’re on the subject of my daughter, let me be perfectly clear. She can’t afford to be distracted from her studies by hanging out at baseball games. As for our disposal, thanks for the offer, but I’ve called a plumber.”

She hadn’t, of course, and both her kids knew it.

Even though Ryan Lane was taller and broader than Rebecca’s five foot four and one hundred and twenty pounds, she edged him out the door. Her final glimpse of him showed the smile had been wiped off his face as he gaped at her from the bottom step.

Rebecca shut the door before she had to give any explanation for her rudeness.

Lisa promptly burst into tears. “Mother! How could you embarrass me like that? I’m not a child. I’m almost seventeen. I hate you! I’m never going to speak to you again. I wish I knew where Daddy was so I could go live with him. He wouldn’t be so mean to me.” Flinging her backpack to the floor, she ran down the hall to her bedroom.

Rebecca slowly released her hold on the doorknob. She clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. Why in the world would Lisa say such a thing about her father? They never mentioned him. He had no place in any of their lives.

Avoiding her son’s look of dismay, Rebecca picked up Lisa’s pack and set it on the couch.

Jordan flopped down beside the well-used pack. “Boy, remind me never to bring a girlfriend home.”

“Ryan is not Lisa’s boyfriend.”

“Huh! That’s what her friends at school call him. The other girls are jealous. Anyway…what’s wrong with her having a boyfriend? It’s no big deal, Mom. You act like dating is a capital offense.”

“Dating? Have they been seeing each other at more than those silly baseball games?” Rebecca crossed to the window and tugged aside the drape. A pristine blue Mustang convertible was parked at the curb. Ryan Lane stood beside it with his car keys in his hand, facing the house, chin defiantly elevated. He scowled one final time, before slowly stepping off the curb to climb into his fancy car. With a roar, he drove away.

What a contrast to her own battered compact, which now languished in a repair shop until she could find the money to bail it out. And didn’t the age and condition of the cars alone underscore the vast difference between that boy’s family and Lisa’s?

Rebecca let the drape slide through her fingers. She paused as she remembered what else Lisa had said about Ryan’s family—that he didn’t have a mother. It was possible that his father—another single parent—might not be any happier than she was about his son pursuing a girl.

Moreover if the family was as well off as that convertible implied, Rebecca doubted very much that Mr. Lane would be thrilled with her own situation. “Jordan, do you happen to know Ryan’s father’s first name?” If she had that, Rebecca could phone the man and maybe enlist his help in nipping the fledgling relationship in the bud.

“Nope. Maybe Lisa knows. So, Mom, are we still gonna eat before you head out, or what?” Jordan asked, eyeing his mother uneasily. “Aren’t you late already?” The fourteen-year-old picked at a frayed sofa cushion before slapping both knees and standing up.

“Guess there’s nothing stopping me from making BLTs,” he said.

“I can’t leave like this. I’ll phone Darcy and see if she’ll cover my shift.” All at once, Rebecca felt guilty for the way she’d handled things. She should’ve thought about contacting the boy’s father instead of losing her temper. She could have politely sent Ryan away and then sat down with Lisa to discuss her school counselor’s call. They still needed to do that. When Lisa was calmer, she’d see what hanging out with Ryan was doing to everything she’d accomplished so far. And if she didn’t—then Rebecca could involve Ryan’s father.

“Fix yourself a sandwich if you want, Jordan. I’m not hungry. I doubt Lisa will be, either.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Jordan, none of this is your fault.”

“Lisa’s in deep shit, huh? Are you gonna ground her forever?”

“Jordan, watch your language, please. I…uh…will handle Lisa.”

“You better not try now, Mom. She’s too upset to hear anything,” Jordan said sagely. “You might wanna wait awhile, so why don’t you just go to work?”

“Maybe you’re right.” Truthfully, giving up a shift would cost money Rebecca desperately needed to pay for the repairs to the Nissan and the smelly garbage disposal that no amount of disinfectant seemed to help. The kids had no idea how tight their finances were each month. Any unexpected expense meant cutting back someplace else. Subtract a night’s wages and tips and, well, she had no way to cut the budget that much.

“I really should go in to work tonight,” she said to her son, still waffling.

“Yeah, the restaurant’s always busy. Mrs. Blackburn might have trouble handling your tables and hers.”

“I’d better phone Darcy anyway, and let her know I’ll be late. I’ll offer to close for her tonight if she’ll cover my tables until I can get downtown.” Rebecca’s co-worker, Darcy Blackburn, was also a single mom with four young boys. She, too, had trouble making ends meet and would understand kid trouble without asking a bunch of questions Rebecca wasn’t prepared to answer.

After talking to Darcy, Rebecca knocked softly on Lisa’s door. The crying didn’t lessen, so she tried the knob. She wasn’t surprised to find the door locked. “Lisa, open up. We need to talk before I go to work.”

“No. Just because you hate men doesn’t mean I have to. You ruined my life. Go away.”

Rebecca took a breath to respond, then let it out on a sigh. Jordan was right. Lisa wouldn’t listen when she was in this frame of mind. How could she make her daughter, who’d never experienced real hardship, see that a woman needed a good education in case she had to support herself?

Yes, Rebecca’s marriage had fallen apart, but she didn’t hate men. She just didn’t have time for a relationship. She’d assumed that her kids would look at her as an example and avoid repeating her mistakes.

Leaning her head against the door, she said, “Jordan’s fixing BLTs. I’m leaving for the restaurant. When I get home, we’ll discuss this further, Lisa.”

“No, we won’t! You were rude to Ryan. Now he’ll never speak to me again.”

“Listen up, kiddo. We have rules about schoolwork being a priority. You broke them big-time. Are you aware that your counselor phoned me to say you haven’t handed in some vital assignments, and you’ve slipped from an A to a C in two classes?”

“I don’t care!” The sobbing intensified. It hurt to hear how broken-hearted her daughter sounded. Rebecca was torn between calling Darcy back and canceling work tonight, or digging deeper and simply attending to duty.

Just as it had been ever since her divorce fifteen years ago, duty won. Turning away from Lisa’s door, Rebecca pulled a sweater from her closet and ran a brush through her tangled hair.

“Jordan,” she called from the front door. “I’ll do my best to catch the eleven-twenty bus. I hope I’ll be home by midnight.”

Her son stepped out of the kitchen, sandwich in hand. “I wish you only had to work at the beauty shop, Mom. Me and Lisa never get to hang with friends. Like Lisa said, we aren’t babies anymore. I don’t understand why you won’t trust us.”

“I trust you, Jordan. Honey, I work two jobs so that your future, and Lisa’s, will be secure. Be better than mine. You’ll have plenty of time after you get your education to hang out with friends.”

“Maybe we’d rather have a little fun now.” His eyes remained darkly accusatory as he bit into his sandwich.

Rebecca had the door open, and she saw her bus lumbering through the intersection, so she had to leave immediately or put Darcy in a bind.

She hated to go feeling as if she’d failed both her kids. All of this unhappiness had come about in a matter of weeks. Because of that boy—Ryan Lane.

Maybe Darcy could help her decide whether to contact the boy’s father.

Running to catch her bus, Rebecca was out of breath when she climbed on and took the first available window seat. The bus was nearly empty, so Rebecca had a seat by herself. The long ride, unfortunately, allowed her too much time to think.

Had she been wrong to hide so much of her past from her children? They knew she’d grown up in a Mennonite community in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. Once or twice she’d probably mentioned working from dawn to dark in the community orchards and in the sheds, stirring hot vats of apple butter and peach preserves. Maybe she hadn’t been clear enough that leaving the order and her family had had nothing to do with the work, but with the highly restrictive lifestyle. That was why she’d married Jack. They’d both wanted out.