Czytaj książkę: «Daddy Wanted»

For Alanus and Jerry, our grandboys, and for all other children whose birth parents go to Heaven too early. I pray each child who loses his or her parents finds a new mommy and daddy who love them as much as your new mommy and daddy love you. Pops and KK thank God for putting you in our life, and we love you…big as the sky, to the moon and back!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The wild child of Claremont, Alabama, had come home.

Raised brows and muted whispers accompanied Savvy Bowers as she crossed the town square that shaped the memories of her youth, as if the giant oaks and three-tiered fountain centering the place whispered the obvious...

She’s back.

Savvy opened the door to Bowers Sporting Goods as an attractive white-haired lady started out. Like that of the others Savvy had passed on her walk to her grandparents’ store, the woman’s expression changed as she undoubtedly put a name with the face.

“Why, Savannah Bowers, it’s been a long time, dear. And you’re as pretty as you were in high school.” She smiled, her green eyes holding nothing but compassion toward Savvy, a welcome change from the reception she’d received so far.

It only took a moment to recognize Ms. Martin. Her hair had transitioned from blond to snowy white, but other than that, the lady looked practically the same as she had fifteen years ago, when Savvy had graduated from high school, kicked the north Alabama dust from her heels and headed to Panama City Beach.

Ms. Martin’s son had been in Savvy’s class at school until the sixth grade, when Savvy had been held back a year and he and the rest of her friends had moved on to junior high. “It has been a while,” she agreed.

“I heard about you coming back to town and how you’re looking after Wendy Jackson’s children. I was so sad to hear about her passing. They said she fell hiking at Jasper Falls?”

“She did.” Savvy’s throat thickened. She hardly recognized the name Wendy Jackson. Her friend had been Willow for as long as she could remember. Willow had despised her birth name almost as much as she’d despised the parents who gave it to her, probably the reason she’d left her children to Savvy.

“Such a shame,” Ms. Martin said. “Thirty-two years old. So young.”

A year younger than Savvy.

“Savvy? Hey!” her grandmother’s cheery voice called from the back of the store.

Thankful for a reason to end this awkward conversation, Savvy turned. “Good to see you, Ms. Martin,” she said, and then stepped inside the store.

Savvy liked Ms. Martin, but she wasn’t ready to tackle a discussion about Willow’s death or the fact that she was expected to raise her children. Dylan, at thirteen, was angry his mom was gone. Rose and Daisy, Willow’s six-year-old twins, were confused and heartbroken. And Savvy didn’t know how to handle any of it.

In the past week, she’d learned of Willow’s death, found out she was responsible for three children and abruptly traded life at the beach for life in the town she’d firmly left behind. And this morning’s meeting with Dylan’s school principal, who informed Savvy that she believed it would be “in his best interest” if they “retained” him a year, had done nothing to lift Savvy’s spirits. No child should be punished because his mother died. Savvy knew that better than anyone.

Jolaine Bowers closed the distance between them, embraced her and brushed a quick kiss against her cheek. “We thought you were coming in earlier. I’m afraid your granddaddy left to go check on things at the fishing hole.”

Savvy inhaled the familiar sweet scent of her grandmother’s favorite shampoo and remembered all of those hugs she’d distributed throughout her childhood. And her teens. When she told them she was moving back to Claremont, her grandparents had graciously told her she could work here again, the same way she had done in high school. She should’ve been here early this morning, but after Willow’s kids had gotten on the bus and Savvy was alone for the first time since she’d arrived, she’d spent a good hour crying.

Then she’d reviewed the papers she’d gotten from the attorney, organized all the casseroles the church brought after the funeral and received that call asking if she could come to the school. “I should’ve phoned you,” she said.

“Hey, it’s fine. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate. Your granddaddy can see you tomorrow.” She eased away from Savvy enough to display her trademark wink. “We’re just so glad to have you back home and working at the store.”

“Thanks,” Savvy said, because saying she was glad to be back would be an outright lie.

Not wanting to get into any of that right now, Savvy started toward the checkout area to look for her grandfather’s habitual to-do list. Finding it, she glanced at the top. “I’ll get started on the new baseball inventory and—” The front page of a newspaper on the counter caused her words to lodge in her throat. She’d seen the same paper earlier today at Willow’s place. Not today’s paper—the date on it was March 5, from over a month ago.

Willow had saved it, too.

Her grandmother hurried to see what held Savvy’s attention. “It isn’t fair, is it?”

“Isn’t fair...?” Savvy asked, momentarily mesmerized by the photo of the handsome man centering the page.

“That men get better looking as they age.” Jolaine tapped the picture. “I meant to mail that paper to you. I remembered how close you, Willow and Brodie were in high school and thought you’d like to see what he’s up to now.”

Savvy stared at the broad grin and deep dimples she remembered, but instead of his Claremont High baseball cap, he wore a Stockville College one. And her grandmother was right; Brodie looked even better now. Dark eyebrows drew attention to intense eyes framed with equally dark lashes. A straight nose, strong jaw, cleft chin. The photo was in black-and-white, but Savvy knew if it were in color, icy blue eyes would peer out from that thick fan of black lashes.

In high school, Savvy and Willow had put the guys they knew in one of two categories: boys and men. The classification had nothing to do with maturity and everything to do with appearance. Some guys had a boyish look as a teen, and the majority of them outgrew that as they got older. Others looked like men from the get-go. That was the type that attracted Savvy and Willow.

And that was Brodie. Strong. Masculine. Muscled well beyond his age. From the broadness of his shoulders in the photo and the fact that he had an athletic position as head coach of the Stockville College baseball team, she’d guess those muscles were still enough to make a girl’s breathing hitch.

He’d had that effect on both Willow and Savvy, even if they’d agreed they’d never act on the attraction. A common understanding between all three of them—the “wild ones”—was that they would never risk their unique relationship by crossing the boundaries of friendship. They were too much alike, their histories too similar, and they needed each other as confidants. They’d never jeopardize that. Or so the trio had promised.

But then that had changed. Willow had never forgiven him for what he’d done, nor had Savvy. Yet for some reason, Willow had saved that article.

Under the photo, the caption read Hometown Hero Brodie Evans is Back.

Savvy had already perused the story, which briefly told of Brodie beginning as a star pitcher for Claremont High, his years at the University of Tennessee, his brief stint in the majors and his new role as head coach at Stockville Community College. Twenty miles away.

Not far enough.

“You can have that copy,” her grandmother said, jarring her back to the present.

Sighing, Savvy took another glance at the article, folded the paper and held it toward Jolaine. “I saw it at Willow’s, but thanks for thinking of me. Do you want to keep it?”

Her grandmother’s mouth opened, and then she shrugged. “No, I don’t guess so.”

“Okay.” Savvy plunked it in the nearest trash can, then started on the baseball inventory.

* * *

Brodie Evans trudged through the locker room at Stockville Community College and reluctantly entered his office. He prayed no one had tossed the envelope while he’d been away and, inspecting the top of his desk, feared the worst.

Willow’s letter was nowhere to be seen.

“Coach Evans, it’s good to have you back,” Phillip Stone, Brodie’s assistant coach, stepped into the office. He was twenty-three, fresh off his college baseball career, and he reminded Brodie of the guy he’d been ten years ago. Young. Athletic. Charming. Someone who had the world at his fingertips. But unlike Brodie, Phillip didn’t appear the kind of guy who would leave his loved ones behind while he fought to achieve his goals. “You planning to be at tonight’s workouts?” he asked.

Brodie had taken the head coaching job in January, only three months ago, and he hadn’t planned to miss an entire week of workouts and practices, but his priorities had taken a tailspin when he learned his daughter had been in a wreck that had nearly taken her life. Thankfully, the doctors—and God—had pulled Marissa through, but nearly losing her had caused Brodie to realize the truth.

He had earned no place in her world.

“Coach?” Phillip repeated, then shook his head ruefully. “Aw, man, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked first. Everything okay with the family emergency?”

Family emergency. That was the only rationale Brodie could come up with to explain why he’d had to leave for spring break instead of sticking around for the team’s extra practices. He’d never mentioned his daughter to the guy. Then again, that precious fifteen-year-old with his eyes technically wasn’t “his daughter” anymore. Once they’d known Marissa would make it, his ex-wife, Cherie, had been quick to remind him that he’d terminated parental rights thirteen years ago.

“Coach...?” Phillip prodded.

“The emergency is over,” Brodie lied. Truthfully, his life was one big crisis now. The only daddy Marissa knew was the one who’d raised her, the one who’d married Cherie over a decade ago. But that didn’t negate the fact that she was Brodie’s flesh and blood.

He had to show Cherie that he was worthy of a place in his daughter’s world. And he’d made a promise to himself—and more important, to God—that he would rectify past mistakes.

“There was a letter,” he said gruffly, “on my desk. I’m certain it was here.” He lifted the stacks of upcoming schedules and camp information, pushed aside the playbooks and still...nothing.

“A recruitment letter? I took that template and handed it over to Coach Yates while you were gone so he could follow up with those players you’d contacted.”

“No, not the recruitment letter.” Brodie scrubbed a hand down his face, felt the evidence of forgetting to shave this morning. “This one was...” He paused, not sure how much he wanted to divulge, and finally settled on “personal.”

“Vern and his maintenance staff have been in several times cleaning up. I believe your new mail is in your slot.” Phillip pointed to the incoming mail bin near the door.

Brodie hadn’t thought to check the bin, stuffed full with a collection of equipment magazines, manila folders and assorted envelopes. He moved toward the container, grabbed the mass from inside and dropped the contents on his desk.

“Need help finding what you’re looking for?” Phillip asked.

“No.” Brodie tossed envelope after envelope until, at the bottom of the stack, he saw Willow’s letter. He clutched it like a lifeline, or more accurately, like a mistake he desperately needed to fix. He’d wronged a friend and ended up losing two in the process. He’d never heard from Savvy after that night either, and he had no doubt why.

She knew what he’d done.

He stuffed the letter in his jacket pocket. “I won’t make workouts tonight.” Brodie glanced up to see Phillip frowning, undeniably confused at the lack of commitment shown by the college’s new head coach. Brodie was committed to the Stockville baseball program, but if he wanted a relationship with Marissa, he had to grow up. Change. Become the father she deserved.

During the entire drive home from that Knoxville hospital, he’d begged God to show him how to do that. And God had put Willow’s letter on his heart.

“I’ve got something I need to do, but then I’ll be back with the team 24/7.” He didn’t know why he offered an explanation. He was the head coach, after all, and as such, he didn’t have to justify himself to any of the assistant coaches. But Phillip Stone was a great coach and a good guy, too, and Brodie wasn’t going to do good people wrong, not anymore.

Understanding dawned on the young man’s face. “Unfinished business with the family emergency. I gotcha. Don’t worry about the team, Coach. We’ll have them ready for you tomorrow.” Then he left Brodie’s office and disappeared through the locker room.

Exhaling slowly, Brodie withdrew the letter from his jacket, opened it and read Willow’s words again. She needed to talk to him. Her son was having a tough time in school, and she wanted Brodie to tutor him.

He hadn’t even realized she still lived in Claremont, or that she knew he coached at Stockville. But she mentioned an article from the Claremont paper. There wasn’t a lot of stuff that happened in or around Claremont, Alabama. A local boy who’d semi made it coming back to take the head coaching job at the nearest college was apparently front-page news. And evidently, the article also discussed the fact that he was part of a mentorship program with local community kids that involved tutoring and recreational activities.

So Willow asked if Brodie could tutor her boy, but Brodie didn’t know how he would face her after the way he’d left her in Knoxville.

Closing his eyes, he prayed, God, please, forgive me for ignoring this for the past three weeks. Help me find the strength to see Willow again, and to apologize for being such a— The word that came to mind didn’t belong in a prayer. Such a jerk back then. And, Lord, if it be Your will, let me fix my past mistakes. Let me have some small place in my daughter’s life.

He opened his eyes, folded the letter and slid it back in the envelope. Willow needed his help. Three weeks ago, he’d avoided her, but now he wanted to make amends. And he’d start with words he’d never uttered before. But he’d say them today.

I’m sorry. And then... Forgive me.

* * *

To keep her mind off Willow, the children and Brodie Evans, Savvy delved into the boxes and itemized lists defining the new shipments her grandparents had received over the past week. She didn’t stop for lunch or for breaks. And when her phone buzzed loudly in her jeans, she was so preoccupied, she almost fell off the tiny stool she used while sorting through the bins.

She slid it out of her pocket and answered, “Hello?”

“Savvy, hey, it’s Mandy.” Mandy Brantley had kept Willow’s children until Savvy arrived in town yesterday afternoon, and she’d helped Savvy get them ready for bed last night before heading to her own home.

Savvy’s pulse started racing, probably because the last time the other woman had called, she’d informed Savvy that her friend was dead and that Savvy was now responsible for her three children. “Mandy, is everything okay?”

“I believe so,” she replied. “But I’m just wondering... Where are you?”

“I’m at the sporting-goods store,” she said. “Remember, my job started today?” She was certain she’d told her about it last night.

“I remember,” Mandy said, “but you’re only working until the kids get out of school, right? When I asked if you needed me to help you with them in the afternoons, you said you’d be home by the time they get off the bus each day.”

Savvy took the phone from her ear and glanced at the time on the display. “Uh, what time do they get home, again?” She’d arrived in town late yesterday after they’d already gotten home from school, and Mandy had been there.

“The bus drops them off at two forty-five.”

The time on Savvy’s phone showed two-forty. “Oh, no! I’m not going to make it. I’ve got to get down there, Mandy!” She grabbed a baseball cap from a box nearby and put it on her head. It wasn’t a foolproof way to disguise her from the nosy folks in Claremont, but she wasn’t in the mood for more stares and whispers as she went about her business. Hurrying, she shuffled through the store aisles toward the entrance and knocked a fishing rod off the wall in the process. She picked it up and quickly returned it to the display hook.

“How could I have forgotten about the kids already?” she asked.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Savvy. These things happen,” Mandy answered.

Savvy made it to the front of the store, pushed the door open and called to her grandmother, “I’ve got to go. It’s time for the bus!”

She glanced down to press the end button on the phone, but halted when she ran face-first into a brick wall. Or rather, a hard-plated chest that felt like a brick wall. “Excuse me.” She looked up, and her heart lodged in her throat.

The newspaper photo didn’t do him justice.

Brodie Evans was taller—a couple of inches taller—than she remembered. His eyes an even more distinctive icy blue. And the five-o’clock shadow only intensified the strength of his jaw.

“Savvy?” he questioned, and she realized he’d grabbed her forearm when she slammed into him and he’d yet to let go, the warmth of his hand seeping into her skin. “You’re back,” he said. “I had no idea.”

“I’ve gotta go.” She pulled her arm away, a mix of panic and anger and disappointment flooding her as she remembered how close they’d been once upon a time, and how he’d thrown it all away.

“But I was coming to your grandparents’ store to find...” he began.

“They can help you with whatever you want.” She forced her feet to move away from the distraction of Brodie Evans and then prayed he got everything he needed from the store today. She didn’t want to talk to him again, didn’t want to see him again. Turning, she sprinted across the square toward her truck, but then heard Mandy yell, “Savvy, wait!”

In the shock of seeing Brodie, she’d forgotten to disconnect the call. “What is it?” she asked breathlessly.

“I’m here, at the trailer. I was bringing a couple more casseroles from the ladies at church, so I’ll wait for the kids to get off the bus, and then I’ll stay until you get here.”

“You’re there?” she asked. But even if she didn’t have to race to the bus stop, she still wanted to leave the square. And the man from her past. “Okay, but I’ll be there soon.” Savvy blinked past the emotions spreading over her like wildfire.

Brodie. After all these years...

A large palm cupped her left shoulder as she reached her truck. She’d been running, her chest pulling in air from the effort, and he wasn’t even breaking a sweat. “Savvy, wait. I’m trying to find Willow.” Brodie turned her to face him. “I have to find her.”

Savvy’s hand squeezed the phone still pressed against her ear. Mandy said something, but she couldn’t make out the words, the jolt from Brodie’s statement drowning out every sound except the thudding of her heart pulsing in her ears. “Willow?” she whispered as visions of her beautiful friend flooded her mind.

Willow standing beneath Jasper Falls, her long dark hair framing a laughing face as she splashed Brodie and Savvy. Willow had died there, at the place they’d all loved. And Brodie had no idea.

“Yes, Willow,” he said. “She wrote to me, said she needed to talk to me about helping...”

Savvy shook her head, didn’t listen to anything else. “You can’t help.” The memory pushed tears forward, and they spilled onto her cheeks. Savvy brushed them away. “Willow’s gone.”

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” He reached into his jacket and withdrew an envelope. “She wrote to me and said she still lived in Claremont and that she wanted to talk to me. She gave me her phone number, but her voice mail box is full. And she didn’t give an address. I thought maybe your grandparents could help me find her.”

“Brodie, you don’t—”

He held up a hand. “Listen, Savvy, I’m sure she told you what happened, and I know you’re probably still angry over what I did. But I know Willow is here, and I’m going to see her.”

“No...you’re not.” Disbelief and shock swirled together to make her light-headed. She grabbed the truck door and took a deep breath.

“Savvy, you can’t keep me from seeing her.”

“I am still angry,” she finally said, wanting to hit him for the way he had hurt Willow back then. She lifted her arm to do just that, but then dropped it to her side. What good would it do?

“I need to talk to her. I need to apologize,” he said thickly, as though either of those things could actually happen.

Savvy gawked at him. “You’re too late. It’s too late to apologize. Willow—” She couldn’t hold back the truth. “Willow’s dead, Brodie.” His eyes widened, the blow of the news evident, but Savvy had neither the time nor the inclination to explain. “And I’ve got to go take care of her kids.” She twisted away, hurriedly climbed into her truck and slammed the door. Then she drove away without looking in the rearview mirror.

Mandy’s voice echoed through the line of the phone Savvy had tossed on the seat. “Savvy?” she asked. “Savvy, can you hear me?”

She had obviously touched the speaker button at some point. Reaching for the phone, she nearly sped through the stop sign at Maple and Main before slamming on the brakes. They squealed in protest, and the phone slid toward the passenger door.

Mandy yelled, “What happened?”

Savvy held her foot firmly on the brake while she retrieved the phone. Then she answered, “It’s okay, Mandy. I’m on my way.”

“I figured that part out,” she said. “That was Brodie, wasn’t it? Is he okay? And are you?”

“No,” she said honestly. “And no.”

“I know that was hard, talking to him and telling him about Willow, but please take a moment to calm down. Don’t speed when you drive out here. I’ll get the kids when they get off the bus and wait for you to get home. Take your time. Everything is fine.”

“Okay,” Savvy said, disconnecting and tossing the phone back on the seat. But she didn’t agree. She had three kids to raise. She had to fight the school to keep them from holding Dylan back. And she had to get over the knowledge that she wasn’t the only wild child who had returned home.