Texas Dad (Fatherhood) (8 page)

“I heard you ask Dr. Blair about her son,” J.J. said, not trying to mask her curiosity.

“Nickolas—he’s four, and the cutest kid.” Zoey turned her face up to J.J. “He was really sick a couple of years ago. My dad said he had blood cancer. Delaney quit being a vet for a while. Everybody was afraid Nick might die. But he got better. I’m glad. I love him and his mom.”

“Is his father a local rancher?”

Zoey shook her head. “Delaney’s not married. Nickolas is like me, he’s only got one parent. ’Cept my mom died, and his dad left before Nick was born. He doesn’t live in this country,” Zoey said, climbing the steps to the back porch.

An almost foreign emotion rippled through J.J. for reasons she was loath to admit. Jealousy. Delaney Blair was gorgeous, capable and unmarried. Add to that, Zoey loved the woman and her son. Earlier, Mack had spoken approvingly of the vet.

“Will you take my picture after we clean the eggs, J.J.?”

J.J. sent the green-eyed monster away. Jealousy wasn’t an admirable trait. She had no call to resent a seemingly nice woman. And she had absolutely no right to the slightest proprietary twinge when it came to Mack Bannerman. “Let me see about Erma. I’ll come back and we’ll clean the eggs, then I’ll get my cameras and we’ll have some fun.”

“Somebody on TV said a good photographer can airbrush away flaws and wrinkles. Can you get rid of my freckles?” Zoey brushed at one cheek. “I hate them.”

J.J. tilted her head. “They’re you, Zoey. A good photographer brings out the natural beauty of a subject. Promise me you’ll reserve judgment about keeping your freckles until after I print copies? By the way, where’s your dad’s printer?”

“In his office. It takes a password. He’ll probably give it to you, but I don’t have it.” She screwed up her nose. “I told you he and Erma still think I’m a kid.”

J.J. laughed. “You
are
a kid. I’m sure they see that you’re precocious for your age.”

“Is that another word I need to look up in the dictionary?” Zoey sighed. J.J. laughed again and went to check on Erma.

Chapter Six

“Erma’s still asleep,” J.J. said, rejoining Zoey in the kitchen. “Let’s finish dealing with these eggs. While we work, give me some ideas about where you’d like to have your picture taken.”

“At school they use this background sheet that’s blue with white clouds. We line up alphabetically by grade. They call your name, you stand in front of the clouds and the camera guy says, ‘Smile.’ The other kids in line make dorky faces. I try not to laugh, but I still look weird.”

J.J. laughed. “I hear you. My elementary and junior high photos were ridiculously bad. I wore braces for four years and didn’t want them to show, so my mouth always looked funny.” J.J. cleaned a few eggs. “I’d like to try several settings. How do you feel about us fixing your hair in some new styles?”

“Okay, I guess. I’ve worn braids forever. I tried a ponytail but everybody said my ears stuck out.” Zoey broke an egg in her annoyance. “Oh, yikes. Sorry.” She scooped the slippery yolk out of the sink and dumped it in the trash.

“I’m sure everybody doesn’t think that,” J.J. said matter-of-factly.

The pair worked in silence until all the eggs were cleaned. “My camera equipment is in my room,” J.J. said. “Follow me. I’ll see what accessories I brought that we can use to shake up your look.”

“You mean like hair clips or scrunchies?”

“More like hats, belts, scarves and jackets.” She laughed. “I always travel with stuff.”

“Cool.” Zoey’s excitement was reflected by the spring in her step.

The first thing J.J. did was unbraid Zoey’s hair. “You have thick, lovely hair,” she said, finger-combing the loose strands.

“I wish it was a different color. It’s not red. It’s not even brown. And it’s so straight I can’t do anything but braid it.”

“Have you tried using a curling iron?”

“No.”

“Give me a minute to plug mine in. I love an iron for instant curl. You have a nice natural wave.” J.J. studied Zoey’s rust-red hair with a critical eye. The blunt cut ends reached the middle of the girl’s back. “There are shampoos that will bring out your red highlights.”

“Really? Erma buys whatever shampoo is on sale at our general store.”

“Hmm.” J.J. made a mental note to send Zoey samples from her salon. “While the iron heats up, try on my gray jacket. It may look a little big, but I can adjust it.” J.J. removed it from the hanger. She opened the top dresser drawer and brought out a black felt hat and a bright teal scarf.

“This jacket is so cool. And it fits pretty good,” Zoey exclaimed.

“I like it because it goes with a lot of things. If you buy classic pieces they’ll last, too.” She tested the curling iron and beckoned Zoey to sit on the end of the bed. Working quickly, J.J. soon had Zoey in curls.

Sorting through her makeup bag, J.J. chose a container of eye shadow. “I’ll apply the faintest tint of green to your eyelids, so close your eyes.”

She made a light sweep over Zoey’s lids. “Now a colorless gloss to make your lips shine,” she said. When she finished, Zoey turned toward the mirror.

“Don’t look until I comb out your hair.” Blocking Zoey’s view, J.J. brushed out the curl, and after rubbing her hands with a splotch of mousse she fluffed Zoey’s hair. Deftly looping a bright scarf around her neck, J.J. stepped back. “Now look. We’re ready to take photographs.”

For a long moment Zoey could only stare at herself. “Awesome possum,” she finally said. “I...look...different. Way better. If the pictures turn out good, will you print a big one so I can frame it to give my dad for his birthday?”

“Sure! It shouldn’t be a problem if we get a pose you like. That’s right, your dad’s birthday is next month. June 1st, isn’t it?”

“Wow!” Zoey’s eyes bugged. “You remember my dad’s birthday?”

J.J. felt a flush rise. “We, uh, had a group of friends at college who celebrated everyone’s birthdays. It was a long time ago, though. Come on outside.” J.J. picked up the felt hat and her camera bag.

Zoey took a last look in the mirror and moved a curl caught on the scarf.

“I love outdoor shots,” J.J. said. “I’ll pose you by a tree, by the corral and standing beside a horse. Do you have one of your own? A horse?”

“There are two I used to ride a lot. Misty is about the color of this jacket.” Zoey ran a hand down the wool. “Splash is a pinto. I’m sure my dad left them here, because the wranglers have their own cutting horses.”

J.J. posed Zoey near a fence post with her booted foot on the lowest rail. She backed up and took a camera out of her bag. “Look toward the barn. Tilt your chin down a bit. Great. Imagine you’re eating your favorite ice cream.” J.J. clicked off several shots. “Now picture something you want, but can’t have. Excellent. Turn your face toward me. Fantastic!”
Click, click, click.
J.J. dropped to one knee and took a few photos from that angle, too. “Okay, on to the horses.”

In the barn she consulted her light meter, then set up an LED light bar. “Do you think this will be too bright for the pinto? I think his coat offers the best contrast of colors.”

Shaking her head, Zoey walked to a row of stalls where both the pinto and the gray gazed solemnly over gates. “Splash is really gentle. Should I saddle him?”

“No, I want close-ups of your heads together.”

Zoey clipped a lead rope around the pinto’s neck and led him out of the stall. All the while, J.J. bobbed and dipped, taking frame after frame. Pausing briefly, she walked over, patted the horse, then arranged the hat atop Zoey’s curls.

“Hey, Splash is trying to eat your hat.” Ducking, Zoey laughed and pushed the pinto’s nose away.

“Priceless,” J.J. murmured, clicking away. “Your dad will love one of those. Or I can create a collage. Okay, put Splash back in his stall. I need to check on Erma, and I’m going to grab my gold suit jacket for you to wear next. And I have a new idea for your hair.”

“I like my hair like this.” Zoey led the horse away. J.J. was packing up her equipment when the girl returned.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll like what I have in mind. This time I’ll add pink to your lips.”

“Sometime this summer Brandy’s mom is taking her to get her ears pierced. They’re going to a big department store where someone will show Brandy how to use makeup.”

J.J. detected envy in Zoey’s words. “Can you ask your dad to see if Brandy’s mom will take you, too? She’s your best friend, after all.”

“Brandy invited me...”

There was a
but
at the end of that sentence. Perhaps she ought to mind her own business, J.J. thought. Mack had hesitated when she’d asked if she could photograph Zoey. He might hate these photos—maybe he didn’t want to see Zoey in any makeup at all. Rural ranchers weren’t necessarily progressive.

Arriving at the patio, J.J. set her camera bag on the outdoor table. “Go on into my room. If Erma’s awake, we can bring her out for some fresh air.”

“Can we take more pictures later?”

“Sure, or I can take another batch tomorrow. It’s getting hot, and sun rays bounce off all kinds of things and ruin photographs.”

Zoey loped across the flagstones and flung her arms around J.J. “This has been the best day ever. I wish you lived in La Mesa.”

J.J. froze, startled by the realization that she wished she lived in La Mesa, too. She managed to hug Zoey back. “What would you be doing with your day if Erma was well and I wasn’t here?” she asked lightly.

Zoey shrugged. “I’d read, or go help Brandy pick vegetables. If Brandy came over, Erma would sit out here and knit while we went for a swim. We do that a lot during the summer. And we only have one more half day of school.”

“Hmm, well, it’ll be lunchtime soon. It’s up to us to prepare something. What should we have?”

“Soup and grilled cheese sandwiches,” Zoey said, not missing a beat.

“That sounds easy. I hope Erma’s awake.”

But she wasn’t when J.J. slipped into her room. So J.J. called, “Erma, if you get up we’ll eat lunch. Then you can phone the doctor about your medicine.”

Erma opened one eye a slit. “Jill? I’m so tired. Is there something you need, dear?”

“You’ve been asleep since Mack left. I’ve been out taking pictures of Zoey, but it’s nearly lunchtime.”

“That long? Mercy.” Erma pressed a hand to her head. “It’s noon, you say?”

“Not quite. More like eleven-fifteen.”

“Can you let me sleep till twelve? Doctors at the clinic probably go out for lunch.”

“All right, I’ll come back in forty-five minutes. Is your hip causing you pain?”

“Once I take two of those pills I don’t feel anything. With that medicine a body can sleep like Rip van Winkle.”

J.J. smiled, glad at least that Erma could still crack a joke. “I hope it’s a healing sleep.”

Erma’s eyes were already closing, and J.J. detected a slowing of her breath. Sighing, she decided to go shoot the rest of Zoey’s photos.

Zoey sat in J.J.’s bedroom. “Is Erma awake?”

“Not really. I promised to let her sleep a while longer. So let’s redo your hair and try the gold jacket. I’ll take a few pictures in the living room and some on the patio with the pool as a backdrop. Then I’ll wake Erma and we’ll make lunch. How does that sound?”

“Okay. Is Erma all right? This isn’t like her. She’s always up before me every morning, and she’s busy even after I go to bed. She
will
wake up, won’t she? I mean...she’s not dying?”

Seeing how worried Zoey was, J.J. sat beside her on the bed. “I don’t have any medical training, but I truly believe it’s the pills knocking her for a loop. I promise you, Zoey, if I saw the slightest sign it was more, I’d pack her off to the clinic ASAP. All right?” In a reflexive action, J.J. brushed away the curls falling into Zoey’s eyes.

Zoey smiled weakly. “I trust you, J.J.”

Those few simple words flustered J.J., but at the same time made her heart swell. Trust had been totally broken between her and Zoey’s dad. And now his child, the product of the relationship that had caused that long-ago breakup, trusted
her
. This humbled her and made her throat tighten, so when she jumped up and said, “Since that’s settled, let’s get you ready for the next round of photos,” it came out sounding like a croak.

Had things gone differently for her and Mack, J.J. might well be preparing
their
daughter for photographs.
Swallowing, she took a shaky breath and grabbed a hairbrush. “What I have in mind is called a crown of braids. It’s a favorite style with young Hollywood stars and models.” Going behind Zoey, J.J. separated her hair into chunks and made loose French braids that feathered around the girl’s forehead. The braids met in the center back of her head. J.J. wove them together with the rest of Zoey’s hair, creating a sophisticated look.

“Oh, I love it,” Zoey said, peering at herself in the mirror. “It’s still braids, but looks more girlie than what I usually wear. Will you teach me how to do this?”

“It’s easier to have someone else do it. But I can teach Erma.”

The gold suit jacket was a little big on Zoey. J.J. rolled up the sleeves so the satin lining showed, and belted it in at the waist with a narrow gold chain.

They went back to the patio, and J.J. posed Zoey beside greenery flanking one end of the pool. In the middle of a round of shots, J.J. was startled when she zoomed in for a close-up of Zoey. She had a sudden sense of déjà vu that made her pull back from her Nikon. It felt as if she’d taken the same shot, but a long time ago. It was something about Zoey’s wide hazel eyes, and the way the sun reddened her hair. Her cheeks, with their smattering of golden freckles, looked very familiar.

Zoey stiffened. “J.J., is something wrong?”

“No, no.” It was probably nothing. Warmth brushed her back and she began to relax. After all, she took scores of photos of young models.

“We should go inside to shoot, though,” J.J. said. “And get a drink of water. It’s really hot.”

Zoey sprang up from the chaise longue. “My dad says people who aren’t used to our Texas sun should drink lots of water.”

“I’ve been away from Texas a long time,” J.J. murmured. That weird sensation was probably brought on by dehydration.

After guzzling some water, J.J. took a dozen more pictures inside.

“Let’s call it a wrap,” she said, capping her lens. “If I haven’t gotten more good photos than you can choose from, I’ve lost my touch.” She grinned cheekily.

“I hope you did. Every one of my school photos has been horrible. And the snapshots Erma and my dad take on holidays...they’re awful, too.”

“Do other people like them?” J.J. asked as they returned to J.J.’s room. “Often we’re too critical of ourselves.”

“My dad buys the school packet, anyway. He started an album when I was a baby and he
always
does a new page every school year. We give a picture to Grandmother and Granddad Adams. Granddad always says my mom was way prettier.”

“What? He should be ashamed!” J.J. snapped before she could remind herself that it wasn’t her place to criticize Zoey’s grandparents.

“My dad argues with him. But they don’t exactly get along.” Zoey unfastened the belt and handed it back to J.J. She slipped off the jacket and hung it on a hanger, frowning. “He’s never said anything to me, but Erma told me that after my mom died, Granddad Adams thought they should raise me. Daddy said no. They hired a lawyer and so did he. Daddy’s lawyer won. Erma says my grandparents don’t act like the Christians they’re supposed to be.”

Thinking Zoey carried quite a weight for a kid, J.J. stored her camera and offered an understanding smile. “Tell you what, if you get out the stuff for lunch, I’ll wake Erma up. Maybe later we can go to town for ice cream, if Erma’s up to the drive.”

“Can I keep these braids?”

“Sure. I’m glad you like your hair. I think it’s a great look for you, Zoey.”

“And can I call Brandy to see if she wants to take a break and come with us? I want her to see my hair.”

“Inviting Brandy is fine by me, but we need to play it by ear. It all depends on how Erma feels.”

“I know. J.J., I wish Benny’s cousin couldn’t ever come and that you’d stay forever.”

“Don’t cross off Benny’s poor cousin until you’ve met her,” J.J. rushed to say, afraid of what else Zoey might wish. “I’m sure she’ll be a better cook than I am.”