* * *
Jake paused in the archway leading to his kitchen. He watched his mother as she lifted the lid to stir the contents of the steaming pot. The rich aroma of the carne guisada encouraged him to forget what he wanted to say. No, he wouldn’t let her cooking distract him. They needed to get some things straightened out.
“Sit, mijo, dinner’s almost done.”
So she wanted to pretend nothing had happened with Vickie. Not this time.
“Mother, I love you, but I’m a grown man. I don’t need you to pick my friends.” Standing at the sink to wash his hands, Jake looked over his backyard. The surrounding hills created a cocoon around the pasture. In the twilight, he could make out his pair of roping horses.
He had put together a life he loved. He just never found anyone to share it with, well, other than Vickie. His mind always went back to her. “You had no right to be rude to Vickie.”
“She’s not your friend. She made her choice and married Tommy Miller. And you do need help. You are almost thirty-one and not married. I should have grandchildren.” She filled two plates with the mouth-watering sauce and meat and set them on the table. Hands in her lap she waited for Jake to join her before continuing. “I remember your pain after she went with that boy to the prom.”
He tried not to roll his eyes. “That’s old history. Vickie’s divorced now. She was married to the wrong man. You should understand that better than anyone.” He dug a fork into his dinner. “If I want to pursue a relationship with Vickie, that’s my business.” He looked at his mother, pointing the meat-loaded utensil at her. “Please be nice to her.”
Across from him, she picked at her plate. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. You need to move on, and I need grandchildren in my old age. Your sister has run off and shows no sign of settling down.”
Jake grinned. “Amá, she didn’t run away. She’s studying to be a lawyer.”
“Yes, well, she made it clear she has no desire to get married.” She looked around the large kitchen that opened to a cozy family room. “It’s my fault. Look at this beautiful home you made. You built this home for a family, but the only kids ever here are the youth groups from the church. You deserve a family of your own.” She looked him straight in the eyes, lips firm. “I deserve grandchildren.”
“I think you might have already said that a few hundred times.” He used a warm corn tortilla to soak up the gravy on the beef tips. “There’s a side to Vickie no one gets to see.”
“Maybe you’re blind to what everyone else knows about her. She is her mother’s daughter.”
His jaw flexed. “And I’m my father’s son.”
Maria gasped and reached for his hand. “No. Oh, mijo, don’t ever say that!”
“Did you forget what I did?”
She stood, the chair toddling on back legs before settling down. “No! You will not speak of that. The fault was mine.” She picked up her Bible. “You are not your father, you’re not!”
Jake pushed away from the table and pulled his mother into his arms, hugging her short frame against his chest. “I’m sorry, amá. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He closed his eyes and buried his guilt. “I just wanted you to know the Vickie I know. The summer we moved here, well, she helped me...I don’t know, she helped me in ways I can’t explain.”
“I remember her as a sweet girl, I do, but you are from different worlds.” Her head shook against his chest before stepping away. “I was their housekeeper. It would be easier if you turned your attention to someone more like us.”
“Mother, we’ve already had this conversation.” He sighed.
“Maybe you hang on to your love for her because she’s safe?”
As the words sank in, he stared at his tiny mother. Safe, with no risk of being in a real relationship. Did he? Vickie had always kept him at a distance, no jealous rages to worry about.
His mother went to the sink and ran the washcloth under the water. “You’re a good man, Jake.” Keeping her eyes down, she started wiping the counter. “Juan always bullied—his sisters, me, even his dogs.” Her lips tight, she neatly folded the dishrag and draped it over the pewter faucet. “But enough of that nonsense.”
For a moment Jake’s brain echoed her words. She never, ever mentioned his father by name. Never spoke of him.
“Here, take this.” She slipped a blue piece of paper from her Bible and held it out until he automatically took the handwritten number. “This is Anjelica Ortega’s cell phone number. Her mother gave it to me. We know you’ll be perfect together. She needs an honorable man after losing her husband. Call her. She’s waiting to hear from you. If nothing else, it’s just a date, right? When was the last time you went out for fun?”
With a sigh, Jake took the number and slipped it into his wallet, hoping that simple action would put the discussion to rest for now.
His mother meant well. She truly believed he needed a wife and children to be happy. He had tried dating, and it never felt right.
He remembered Anjelica and Steve from school. They were younger and always together. No one had been surprised when they married a month after graduation and two months later, he went to boot camp. In less than a year, she was a war widow. That was years ago. He hadn’t seen much of her in town.
He hadn’t seen much of Vickie, either. She was always working at the Mercantile or hiding on the ranch. She had made the first step by coming to his home. But then she ran off, putting distance between them, again.
This time he would follow her. There was no reason to tell his one-track-minded mother his new plan.
He pushed his hair off his forehead and flexed his jaw. Right now, his brain needed a break from all this emotional turmoil. He didn’t want to think about Anjelica and her young soldier or Vickie and the coward she had married.
He flopped down on the overstuffed leather sofa and wrapped his fingers around his remote. He just wanted to watch some football for the next few hours. Tomorrow he would map out a plan to get to know Vickie again. Seth needed guidance, too. He knew from firsthand experience that having a bad father was worse than not having one at all. The flag football game would be a good place to undo any damage Tommy might have caused to the boy’s confidence.
Jake pulled his black Silverado to the front of Vickie’s trailer. He grinned as he leaned over the steering wheel. Who would have thought Vickie Maria Lawson would choose to live in the old worker’s house.
Two decades had passed since his mother had taken the job as the Lawsons’ housekeeper. The rent-free trailer had been one of the benefits. Coming from a tiny, one-room house in the crowded border-town of Eagle Pass, this single-wide trailer felt huge. For the first time he’d had his own room, his own bed.
Stepping out of his truck, Jake heard music blaring from the narrow trailer. The tune sounded like something from their high school days.
On the first step, the worn wood gave and dangerously shifted under his weight. That needed to be fixed. He jotted the note in his mind.
He wondered why she moved in here instead of her parents’ house. The big house, as they called it growing up, could easily fit five families.
He remembered his first trip to the big house. Looking over from his old home, he had once thought the trailer a mansion. A grin followed a chuckle. The Lawson home had awed him with the massive rooms, winding staircases and endless hallways, making him feel he had fallen down the rabbit’s hole into Alice’s Wonderland.