A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [87]
“Now we can talk about the new man in your life,” Ashley said to Melissa. “He’s not ‘the man in my life,’” Melissa insisted. “I barely know Steven.”
Ashley, sitting across the table from her now and nibbling at one of the brownies, raised an eyebrow. “You know him well enough to sleep with him,” she said.
“Be quiet,” Melissa whispered, as the screen door creaked open and the first of the guests entered into the kitchen.
“I smell brownies!” Herbert whooped.
THEY’D WALKED THE PROPERTY, checked out the ram-shackle old house and the ruins of the barn, now partially removed by the work crew that had been there earlier, but Brody still hadn’t answered Steven’s question. Still hadn’t said where he’d been since he and Conner got into a fistfight in a parking lot in Lonesome Bend one night, two weeks after graduating from college, and parted ways.
Brody hadn’t even gone home to pack up any of his belongings, as far as anybody knew. His old dog, always riding shotgun, was with him, and the two of them just lit out without so much as a “Go to hell” to the rest of the family.
Now, watching as Matt and the dog played tag in the softening afternoon light, Brody hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his threadbare jeans and smiled to himself. “You gonna tell me how you happened to come by a kid, Boston?” he asked, his voice low-pitched and gruff with some private emotion.
Steven explained about Zack’s and Jillie’s deaths, and how he’d adopted Matt when they were both gone.
“That’s doing things the hard way,” Brody commented, and Steven couldn’t be sure whether he was referring to Zack and Jillie, for dying, or Steven himself, for stepping up to raise a child.
But sympathy flickered in Brody’s eyes as he watched the boy and the dog playing their games. He was one tough cowboy, and that was as true a thing as any statement ever had been, but deep down, he was a sucker for kids and critters. Always had been.
He slanted a glance at Steven, slapped him hard on the back. “I figured you’d be married by now,” he said.
Steven laughed. “Why?”
Brody gestured toward Matt. “Because you’re the marrying kind,” he said. “Unlike me.”
“‘The marrying kind’?” Steven repeated. “Excuse me?”
“Face it,” Brody said, and another grin splashed across his face. “You were born to be a husband and a father.”
“Unlike you?” Steven prodded lightly.
“Unlike me,” Brody affirmed. “No good woman would have me, and while I might sleep with a bad one, I’d never put a wedding ring on her finger.”
Steven couldn’t stand the wondering any longer. “Brody,” he said, his tone firm now, his gaze direct. “Where have you been?”
“It’s like that old Johnny Cash song,” Brody said. “I’ve been everywhere, man.”
“Not good enough,” Steven challenged. “Do you have any idea how much Dad and Kim worry about you?”
Something changed in Brody’s face; he looked older than his thirty years, and sadder than a man that young ought to be. “I thought about going home a million times,” he said gruffly. “But my pride always got in the way, and I couldn’t seem to find a way around it.”
Steven thought of Zack and Jillie as he watched their child, and of how unlikely it seemed, even now, that they could be gone. “You gonna wait until somebody dies, Brody? Trust me, if that happens, you’ll be a long time regretting it.”
Brody’s look was sharp as he turned his head toward Steven. “Is one of them sick—Davis or Kim, I mean?”
Steven shook his head. Was Brody implying, by deliberately omitting a third name, that it would be just fine with him if Conner were sick? “No,” he said. “And neither is your brother. But you ought to know as well as I do how fast things can change.”
Before Brody could reply, Matt rushed them, head back and arms out like airplane wings, as good as flying. Zeke ran, barking, behind him.
“I’m starved!” Matt declared loudly.
Brody reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Me, too,” he said. He looked at Steven again. “What’s for supper, Boston?”
“Leftover meat loaf and canned ravioli,” Steven said, leading the way toward the door