A Long Tall Texan Summer: Tom / Drew / Jobe

“Bobby Turner’s no fool,” Luke said with a grin. “He figures people will pay to catch clean fish in a good location. He does a roaring business.”

Tom, glancing out over the dozens of people around the big lake, had to admit that the warm weather drew scores of fishermen.

“Mind if we join you?” Luke asked. “The best spots are already taken.”

“Is this one of them?” Tom queried.

“It sure is,” Crissy piped up. “I caught a big fish last time, didn’t I, Uncle Luke?”

“She caught a four-pound bass,” Luke agreed, settling in. “But I had to land him. She’s a bit small yet for pulling in fighting fish on a line.”

“It pulled me down,” Crissy explained solemnly. Then she grinned. “But we ate it for supper. It tasted very good.”

Tom laughed in spite of himself. The child had an incredible variety of facial expressions.

Crissy looked at him for a long time, her little face studious and quiet. “You have green eyes and dark hair,” she noted. “Just like me.”

He nodded. “So I do.” He paused, glancing at Luke, who’d gone to the small shed where bait was sold. “I guess your dad had green eyes, too, huh?”

She frowned. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “My daddy had red hair.”

Tom’s heart jumped up into his throat. The most incredible thoughts were gathering speed in his head. He stared down at the child. She had his own olive skin, his eyes, his hair. She was in kindergarten, that would make her at least five years old. He couldn’t stop looking at her as a shocking idea took shape in his mind.

Luke came back with bait. “Go put this on your hook,” he told Crissy, “and watch that you don’t get it stuck in your finger like poor old Mr. Hull did last time he went with us.”

“Yes, sir,” she said at once. “I don’t want my finger cut open!”

She rushed off, a miniature whirlwind in jeans and a short-sleeved cotton shirt.

“She loves to fish,” Luke said. “I had a date, but I broke it.” He made a face. “My latest girl doesn’t like fishing or any other ‘blood sport.’”

“Fishing is a blood sport?” Tom asked.

“Sure is,” came the reply. “So is eating meat.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’m not giving up my cattle, so I guess this girl will go the way of the others pretty soon. She’s a looker. Pity.”

Tom knelt down beside Luke, glancing warily toward the child. “She said her dad was redheaded.”

Luke’s indrawn breath was audible, although he recovered quickly enough. “Did she? She was barely older than a toddler when he died…”

“Red is red, whatever age you are,” Tom said doggedly. His green eyes met the blue ones of the other man. “She’s mine.”

Luke cursed silently. Elysia was going to kill him.

“She’s mine,” Tom repeated harshly, his eyes demanding verification.

Luke bent his head. “She’s yours,” he said heavily.

Tom looked at the little girl again, his face white, his eyes blazing. He’d never thought much about getting married, much less about having children, and all at once, he was a father. It was a shattering thought.

“Dear God,” he breathed.

Luke put a hand on his shoulder, noting how the other man tensed at once. He didn’t like being touched. Luke withdrew the comradely gesture. “She thought you were a big city playboy,” he explained. “She never considered trying to get in touch with you, especially after the way you acted before she left town.”

Tom grimaced.

“If it’s any consolation, Fred had leukemia when they married, and he was already infirm. They lived together as friends, nothing more, and she was fond of him. She needed a name for Crissy. For a small town like this, we’re pretty tolerant, but Elysia couldn’t bear having people gossip about us more than they already do.” He searched Tom’s eyes. “You’ll have heard about our father, I imagine?”

Tom nodded. He drew in a long breath. “My father was a madman,” he confided quietly. “I’ve had my share of beatings, too,” he added, and a look passed between the two men. “The difference was that my father died of a brain tumor—while he was beating my sister for smiling at a boy she liked. He called her a slut, if you can imagine being labeled that for a smile.”

Luke grimaced. “Good God, and I thought I had it bad.”

Tom laughed coldly. His eyes were on the child. “One time,” he said half to himself, “in my entire life, and there was a child.”

Luke looked down at the ground. “Elysia was your first?”

Tom hesitated, but he was too stunned by what he’d learned to conceal it anymore. “Yes,” he said bluntly. “And the last. There hasn’t been anyone else, ever.”

Luke looked up, quietly compassionate. “Not for her, either,” he said. “Not even her husband.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Yes, I am,” Luke countered. “He was too ill most of the time, and she never felt like that about him. She was honest. Then when Crissy was born, they seemed to find common ground. That child was wanted and very much loved.”

Tom’s hand clenched by his side. “And now that I know about her—” he nodded toward the child “—what the hell do I do?”

Chapter 3

“On that subject,” Luke mused, “I would say that you’ve got a real problem on your hands. Elysia never meant for you to find out about Crissy. And here I’ve given the game away.”

He shook his head. “Crissy gave it away,” he replied, “when she said her dad was redheaded. I believe in recessive genes, of course, but not to that extent. She’s a dead ringer for my sister, Kate.”

“I noticed that, too,” Luke replied.

“What am I going to do?” Tom groaned, pushing his hands through his hair in frustration. “I can’t walk up to Elysia after all this time and demand my rights to my daughter. I let her leave New York pregnant, although I swear I didn’t suspect that she could have been after one night, and I never even tried to see her again. She won’t understand why.”

“Care to tell me?”

Tom laughed coldly. “Because I was too ashamed,” he said. “I got drunk and had sex,” he said with self-contempt. His eyes closed. “My God, I thought I was sure to go to hell after that. I didn’t realize that the hell was going to be living with myself afterward. I missed her,” he confided. “She’d been with me for two years, and it was like losing part of my own body. But every time I thought about what I’d done, I was too ashamed to try to contact her. I never thought of a child,” he added huskily. He shook his head. “I wasn’t very clued-up for a twenty-eight-year-old man. And Elysia thought I was a playboy. How’s that for irony?”

“You should have told her the truth,” Luke told him. “She’s not the sort of woman who would think less of you. I’d guess that it would impress her very much.”

“How could I have told her something like that? I’m thirty-four now, but when I knew Elysia I was twenty-eight already. How many male virgins of that age have you ever known?” Tom asked him with an irritable glance.

Luke grinned. “One.”

Tom burst out laughing. It didn’t seem so terrible now, that he’d had a woman and a child had come of the experience. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more pleasure he felt. Those pangs of conscience were receding at least a little. But he was knee-deep in problems, with no solutions in sight. Elysia was the biggest one of all. He remembered the things he’d said to her recently and he wanted to throw back his head and scream. Even if she’d have let him come around Crissy before, she’d never allow him close to the child now. He’d burned his bridges by accusing her of sleeping her way up the corporate ladder. He groaned aloud. How could he have been so blind?

“You might come to supper tonight,” Luke said.