Christmas on My Mind (20 page)

His wife, who'd died of cancer in her fifties, had given him two daughters. The firstborn, Wendy's mother, was running a charity mission with her second husband—a preacher she'd met at her first husband's funeral—in Uganda or some other godforsaken place. When Wendy got pregnant and married Jake, the woman had pretty much disowned her. She hadn't come home for the wedding. Hell, she hadn't even bothered to come home for her funeral.

Dusty's other daughter had perished in a small plane crash with her doctor husband, leaving Wendy's cousin Kira an orphan at seventeen. Funny he should remember that about Kira. Something in him didn't want to remember her at all. Something else couldn't let go of her.

He knew, of course, that Kira had taken in his daughter to raise. But he'd long since made up his mind not to contact her. As long as Paige was safe and well cared for, she was better off not knowing the haunted, sometimes violent man her father had become.

Dusty led the way to a late-model white Jeep Wrangler and clicked the remote to unlock the door. “Climb in,” he said. “There's a good steak house ten minutes from here. I know they don't starve you in jail, but you look like you could use a decent meal.”

“Thanks . . . I guess.” Jake climbed into the passenger seat, closed the door and fastened his seat belt. “I've got some questions for you. For starters, how did you know where to find me?”

Dusty started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “A few months ago I hired a private investigator to track you down. He didn't have an easy time of it. You don't seem to settle anyplace for long, do you?”

“I guess not.” That mind-set had evolved after Jake checked himself out of the VA hospital
. Don't stay around long enough to get attached to people, to places, or even to animals. No love, no loss, no grief
. So far it seemed to be working for him. In his good moments he'd managed to feel almost numb.

They drove in silence for a few minutes before Jake spoke again. “So my next question is, what made you think a bum like me was worth finding?”

Dusty braked the Jeep at a red light. “That answer's going to take some time. What d'you say we leave it till our supper's on its way?”

Jake settled back into the cushy leather seat, his eyes tracing the silhouette of tall ponderosa pines against a blazing Arizona sunset. He'd been in jail two weeks, barely half his sentence. It felt damned good to be out. But he sensed that the old man was reeling him in like a hooked fish. Not knowing why made him edgy.

He would listen, Jake decided. But he'd be damned if he was going to talk. There were no words for the hellish things he'd seen and done in Afghanistan. If Dusty tried to pump him, he would get up from the table and walk away.

Dusty pulled up to a restaurant with a log exterior and a name Jake recognized as a high-end steak and ribs chain. Inside, the aromas coming from the kitchen made him weak in the knees. After two weeks of jail fare and, before that, eating from fast-food dollar menus, this was like stepping into a forbidden paradise. But he'd insisted on paying his own way, and he could only imagine what a really good meal would cost here.

The hostess showed them to a booth. Dusty ordered two Coronas while Jake perused the menu. The cheapest item, a burger with fries and coleslaw, was fifteen dollars. That would have to do him.

“My offer to buy you dinner still stands,” the old man said. “They've got great prime rib here.”

“Thanks, but I've got it. And I'll buy yours too.” Jake gave his order to the waitress—a burger.

Dusty shrugged. “I'll have the same.” As the waitress hurried off with their order he turned back to Jake and thrust one of the chilled Coronas across the table. “You're a stubborn man, Jake O'Reilly. At least I'm buying the beer.”

“Thanks.” Jake took a swig, savoring the coldness and the taste. “What I really need is to know what your game is. I never expected to see you again, and now you show up and spend a thousand bucks bailing me out. What's in this for you? What do you want?”

The old man's eyes, a deep, startling shade of blue, gazed into Jake's. “It's simple enough. I want to take you back to Tucson and give you a job on my ranch.”

“What the hell?” Jake stared at him. “I don't know anything about ranch work. I've never even been on a damned horse.”

“Maybe not. But there's plenty you could do. I know about your engineering degree, so you should be handy with tools. And some of the kids we work with could use another man around the place.”

“The kids?”

“Teenagers with troubles—at risk, that's what Kira calls them. She runs a horse therapy program to help them.”

“What about Paige?” he asked.

“Your little girl needs to see her father, Jake. She's getting old enough to wonder why you never came back for her.”

Jake's fingers tightened around his glass, hard enough to whiten his knuckles. “I never came back for her because I'm not fit to be a father. The nightmares in my head, the memories of what happened over there—I could scare her, even hurt her without meaning to. I shouldn't be with kids. I shouldn't really be with anybody.”

“So you just plan to keep running. Is that it?” The wise blue eyes seemed to skewer him to the back of the booth.

“I spent five weeks in the VA hospital before I got tired of talking to their shrinks. ‘Give it time,' they said. ‘Maybe it'll go away.' That was almost two years ago. It hasn't.”

Dusty set down his beer and leaned across the table. “Come home with me, Jake. Come and do some good where you're needed.”

“Nobody needs me,” Jake said.

“That's where you're wrong. I need you because I'm getting old. Paige needs you because you're her father. And Kira—she needs you, too.”

“Why would Kira need me?” He pictured Wendy's cousin, so smart, so driven. How could a woman like Kira need anybody?

“Kira needs you to forgive her for what happened. Maybe if you can do that, she'll finally be able to forgive herself.”

J
ANET
D
AILEY
's first book was published in 1976. Since then she has written more than 100 novels and become one of the top-selling female authors in the world, with 300 million copies of her books sold in nineteen languages in ninety-eight countries. She is known for her strong, decisive characters, her extraordinary ability to recreate a time and a place, and her unerring courage to confront important, controversial issues in her stories. You can learn more about Janet at
www.JanetDailey.com
.