“Fine, fine.” He nodded, then reached across the table, blanketed her hand with his. “Question is, how’re you?”
She looked into gray eyes that glittered with fatherly love and concern. There were a few more lines around them than she remembered, but then, worrying about her had probably put every one of them there. Cammi felt overwhelmed by guilt. He’d worked so hard to provide for his girls, all while doing his level best to be both mother and father to them. He deserved far better than what she’d always given him.
“I’d hoped to accomplish something out there—” she blurted. “Something that would make you really proud of—”
“You’ve always made me proud,” Lamont interrupted, “just being you. You know that.”
She didn’t know anything of the kind, especially since her mother’s accident, but it still felt good, real good, to hear him say it. Suddenly, she found herself fighting tears.
Lamont gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. “I told you before you left home that those Tinsel Town phonies didn’t have enough accumulated brain matter to power a lightbulb.”
He’d said that and then some!
“So how’d you expect dunderheads like that to have enough sense to see what a great li’l gal you are!” He patted her hand, then added, “I know you gave it your all, sweetie. If your best wasn’t good enough for ’em, well…” He lifted his chin a notch. “Well, that’s their loss.”
So he thought her failure to land any decent roles in L.A. was responsible for her dour mood. Cammi was about to set the record straight when Lamont said, “You did the right thing, coming home. You have any idea what you’ll do now that you’re back?”
Lamont’s question implied she was home to stay, and he was right. This baby growing steadily inside her deserved a stable home, deserved to be raised in a house where it would be treasured, and protected and nurtured by a big loving family. It didn’t matter one whit what was good for her; from the moment she’d learned of its existence, Cammi had put the baby first, always, and that meant giving up her crazy ideas of stardom. She’d earned a degree in Childhood Development, had spent nearly three years teaching four-and five-year-olds before heading for L.A.
She ran a fingertip around the rim of her mug. “I made arrangements to meet with the Board of Ed first thing tomorrow. There are some openings in the Amarillo School District.”
“Good plan.” He slid his chair back and got to his feet. “Baked an apple pie today….”
“Baked a pie? You?” Cammi laughed. “What’s this world coming to!”
“If you call following directions on the box ‘baking,’ then I baked a pie.” He chuckled. “It was Patti’s day off, see, and I got a hankering for something sweet.” Unceremoniously, he plopped the dessert on the table. “Care for a slice?”
Cammi went around to his side of the table, gently shoved him back into his chair. “You tore open the package and put it in the oven, all without your housekeeper’s help, I might add. Least I can do is serve it up.”
She wasn’t surprised, as she rummaged in the cupboards for plates, silverware and napkins, to find everything right where her mother had kept them. “More coffee?”
Lamont held out his mug, and, smiling, she topped it off.
“Did I tell you it’s good to have you home?”
She folded a paper napkin and laid it beside his mug. “Yes, you did.” Bending at the waist, Cammi kissed his cheek. “Did I tell you it’s good to be home?”
Cammi didn’t miss the slight hitch in his voice when he echoed her response. “Yes, you did.” She slid a wedge of pie onto a plate. As he speared an apple with one tine of his fork, he added, “I sure have missed you.”
She looked at him, smiling nervously, blinking. What was going on here? Her stoic, keep-your-feelings-to-yourself dad, admitting a thing like that? “Heard from Ivy or Vi lately?” she asked carefully.
“Your sisters will be here for a welcome-home celebration as soon as we can arrange it. Patti will be whipping up a special dinner for us.
Cammi had been fairly sure that, like most everything else in her life these days, her homecoming would be a fiasco. In fact, she’d been dreading the whole miserable scene so much that she’d been distracted and run the red light in Amarillo.
Memory of the accident brought Reid Alexander to mind yet again. Cammi pictured the handsome, tortured face. She knew precisely what event from her past haunted her, but what had painted the edgy, troubled look on his—
“So, what happened to your car?”
Cammi gave a dismissive little wave. “Little fender bender in town is all. No big deal.”
Thanking God yet again that no one had been hurt, she remembered the napkin, tucked into the front pocket of her purse, that Reid had given to her in the diner. “The mechanic will call you with an estimate,” he’d said, looking as if he’d been the one responsible for the damage.
Cammi braced herself, waiting for her dad to ask whose fault the accident had been, waiting for the safety lecture that would surely follow once she admitted she’d been one hundred percent to blame.
Instead, Lamont said, “Important thing is, you’re home now, safe and sound.”
And so is your grandchild, she thought, thanking the Almighty again.
He shoved his empty pie plate to the center of the table. “Not bad for store-bought and frozen, eh?”
Not bad at all, Cammi thought, looking into his loving face. Not bad at all.
And pie had nothing to do with the sentiment.
As she made her way up to bed around 2:00 a.m. after having a heart-to-heart with her sister Lily in the barn, Cammi’s mind drifted back to Reid. His voice and manly stance, and the bright green of his eyes set her heart to pounding, as if she were a teenage girl in the throes of a first crush.
She dreaded going to bed because she knew she wouldn’t be having a peaceful night’s sleep.
More than likely, she’d have nightmares induced by worries about her condition—and how Lamont would react to the same news.
Chapter Three
Reid stood beside his rumpled bed, staring at the napkin bearing Cammi’s name and phone number. Thinking about her had kept him up most of the night. Shaking his head, he slapped the napkin onto the nightstand, because there didn’t seem to be a single legitimate reason to call her.
Couldn’t use the car repairs as an excuse, because he’d already told her the mechanic wouldn’t have time to assess the damage until Monday, at the earliest. Couldn’t say the tow truck driver needed information, because she already knew their vehicles had been delivered to Wilson’s Garage.
What was wrong with honesty? he wondered. Why not just tell her he enjoyed her company and wanted to see her again. He could suggest a movie, or a quiet dinner, someplace where he could get to know her better.
Reid held the receiver in one hand, the napkin in the other, then noticed that his alarm clock said five-thirty. Groaning, he blew a stream of air through his teeth. What was he thinking? Not everyone got up with the cock’s crow! She’d driven all the way from L.A. to Amarillo and had had a car wreck, all in one day. Surely she’d be sawing logs at this hour.
Still, he thought, palming the napkin once more, hadn’t she said this was her cell phone number? More than likely, it was turned off and recharging. He could leave a message, and if she didn’t return the call, he could tell himself it had somehow been lost in cyberspace….
Holding his breath, Reid punched in the digits. After