The Cowboy's Homecoming (13 page)

Jackson nodded in his direction and stood up. That started a migration.

“Everyone, look who's joining us, Jeremy and Beth.” Angie touched his arm and smiled.

She knew how to take in kids, even the grown and angry kind. He had his past, she'd had her own to deal with. She'd had to deal with finding out about him. That made her one of the strongest women he knew.

The Coopers didn't give him long to think about his past or what Angie had been through. They didn't give him a chance to worry about his reception. As he stood there getting his bearings, the Cooper family stampeded. The girls, his half sister and adopted sisters gave him hugs and they cried.

His brothers slapped him on the back and gave him
fisted man-hugs. Tim manned the grill and smiled at his wife and then at Jeremy.

This was the closest thing he'd ever had to a family, a real family. He'd had his church family when he was a kid. He'd had the guys he traveled with when he rode bulls. He'd taken care of his mom and his sister.

“Want a glass of iced tea?” Heather smiled and led him to the stainless steel fridge under the counter that connected to the grill. “Sorry, we can be overwhelming.”

“A little.”

“I'm sorry, you know, that we didn't get to grow up together.” And then she shrugged. “But in a way, I guess we did. Back Street kept us all connected.”

“Heather, let's not talk about the church. Not tonight.”

She looked startled and then she nodded. “I didn't say that as a prelude to a ‘please don't tear it down' conversation.”

“You'll have to forgive me if I say that it sounds like a few of the other conversations I've had lately.”

“It probably does and I'm sorry. Let's forget it and join the party. Beth is talking to Jackson.”

That stirred an emotion a little different than the one he'd just battled, and a lot more confusing.

Tim caught him before he could make it to Beth's side. He flipped steaks on the grill and offered Jeremy a bottle of water.

“I'm good.”

“I'm glad you came.”

Jeremy looked around, at this family, his family. “Yeah, so am I.”

He'd let the last twelve years of running keep him
from being here with them. That was just about the craziest thing he'd ever done. Because in the last week they'd proven over and over again that it might have been nice to have them all involved in his life.

Even if Jackson was on the big side of being a pain. And at that moment he was leading Beth over to the flower gardens.

Tim slapped him on the back and laughed. “You might want to hold on to her. I think Jackson is starting to think about settling down.”

“She's a free woman.” Jeremy's words sounded tight to his own hearing.

“Yes, she is. She's thrown you a curveball on this church situation.”

“That she has.”

“I hope you don't let that come between the two of you.”

Jeremy shrugged it off because it was better if something did come between them. Might as well be the church.

Tim shook seasoning on the steaks. “These are nearly done. You know, if this becomes a legal battle for you, it might be cheaper to let it go and build elsewhere.”

Yeah, that made sense. But he hated to back down from a fight.

 

Beth knew that Jackson was messing with Jeremy, even before he whispered that his brother's brown eyes were starting to turn kind of green. He shouldered against her and laughed. She laughed, because Jackson had always been the flirt, but never the guy she was interested in dating.

“I should go sit with him.” She shot a look in Jeremy's
direction. He'd taken a seat next to Reese and was pretending to drink water and not glare. She reached into her pocket where she'd stuck the note before leaving the house.

She could at least give him this. It might make him frown less.

“If he hurts you, I'll take care of him.” Jackson walked with her, away from the flower gardens that Angie Cooper tended herself.

“He isn't going to hurt me.”

Jackson shrugged. “He's never been much of a settling-down kind of guy.”

“A little like his older brother?”

Jackson laughed at that. “I guess you got me there. But if the right woman came along, I might just give up my single ways.”

“It happens that way, Jackson.”

“Yeah, it does.”

They were at the table where Reese and Jackson were discussing the army and Reese leaving for basic training. Jeremy pushed out the chair next to him. Reese made some kind of crazy excuse why he had to leave.

“Nothing like matchmaking, is there?” Jeremy leaned close to her and she loved that he smelled like the outdoors and clean soap.

“It isn't my favorite thing in the world.” She pulled the note out of her pocket. Keep it to herself or show it to him?

“What's that?” Jeremy reached and she handed him the note about the historical society's ruling.

“You win this battle.” She met his caramel gaze and held it, wanting him to smile. “They voted against the church becoming a historical site.”

He read the note and he didn't smile. “I don't want this to be a battle. I never wanted that.”

“I made it a battle, didn't I?”

He smiled then and leaned to kiss her cheek. “You did. And I'm afraid there won't be any winners.”

No, there wouldn't be winners. She thought about telling him he could walk away, but what if he did? What if he gave up and left?

B
ack Street Church on Sunday morning was full to capacity with members of Dawson Community Church and various other residents of Dawson. A few came out of curiosity, others were there to say “thank you” to God for sparing them, others were steadfast members of the community church who needed a place to go on Sunday morning until their church was repaired.

Speaking of repairs, Beth stood in the yard and looked up at the church. Some repairs had taken place at Back Street. The people using it as a shelter had helped. And so had Jeremy. She'd seen him on a ladder that morning, repairing loose gutters on the roof over the porch.

A door closed. She glanced to her right and watched him walk down the steps of the RV, a little less gimpy than a few days ago. Last night after Heather's birthday party he'd driven her home. He'd walked her to the door. He hadn't kissed her good-night. As a matter of fact, he hadn't said much after she'd shown him the note. And she was kind of sorry she'd given it to him if that's how he was going to act.

Like a sore winner.

She glanced his way again. He smiled and nodded. She walked up the steps, greeted Wyatt Johnson at the door and walked into the building.

It no longer smelled like dust and age. The inside had been polished and cleaned. The windows had been washed and sunlight lit up the old stained glass. The sanctuary glowed with warm light and the warmth of a hundred people. Beth stopped in the vestibule and took a deep breath. This was how it felt to come home.

She'd been attending Dawson Community Church for several months, but this church was home. Today it looked like it had years ago. It wasn't shadowy and empty, draped with spiderwebs.

Her heart wasn't empty. Faith had been returning, seeping in through the cracks in her heart.

God wasn't a bitter father pushing her from what was familiar and comforting. He wasn't an angry husband, using his word to beat her into submission.

He was God the father, compassionate, merciful and offering grace to a broken life. Her life.

“We'll walk in together.”

Her dad stood next to her, surprising her. There were two people she didn't expect to see in this service. He was definitely one of them. And next to him, Lorna. A public acknowledgement of their relationship.

“I haven't been in here in years.” Buck Bradshaw shook his head. “Your mom and I were kids in this church, and then we were teens. And then I got busy with the farm and she kept coming. I guess that happens.”

“It can.” Beth reached for his hand, rough and strong. He'd always been strong. They walked down the aisle
together. Beth stopped at the second pew from the front, the pew where she'd always sat with her mother and brother. The third pew was where Jeremy sat with their Sunday school teacher.

Her dad didn't move. He held tight to her hand and looked at the carpet runner that covered the center aisle. Dark brown, faded and worn. Someone had found it in a closet and unrolled it.

“I didn't want to lose her. I wanted God to heal her.” He looked up, his brown eyes watery.

“Dad, we don't have to do this.” Beth let go of his hand and sat down. She slid down the pew and made room for her father and for Lorna. It pulled at her heart a little, to see Lorna next to her father.

After so many years it should have been easier. But it felt as if they had all gotten stuck in time, not moving forward, because they had avoided church, and sometimes they'd avoided one another. They had avoided honest discussion.

Her dad sighed as he took his seat.

“No, we don't have to,” Buck's voice rasped. “But we should have done this a long time ago. I should have told you how much I loved her and didn't want to lose her. I should have told you how much I prayed.”

Beth leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder. “Dad, it's okay.”

He shook his head, “I let her down. I told her I would hold us together.”

“We did the best we could. How were you supposed to know how much it would hurt?”

“No, I guess no one ever knows.” A tear trickled down his cheek.

Wyatt Johnson took the place behind the pulpit. He smiled at the crowd and shook his head.

“Disaster has a way of bringing us all together. The important thing is to keep that unity after the healing is done.”

The rest of the sermon was lost because Beth looked back and saw Jeremy enter the church. He removed his hat and stood at the back of the building. Her heart beat in double time and her eyes overflowed.

Her dad pushed a box of tissues into her hands. “Might need those.”

She sniffled and nodded. She had failed to change Jeremy's mind. Maybe God could do what she couldn't. Back Street Church still had a purpose. She hoped she wasn't the only one who saw the need.

 

Jeremy left before the service ended. He made eye contact with Wyatt, slipped his hat back on his head and walked out. The sunlight was bright. The sky was bluer than blue. He stood on the front porch of the church and stared out at the field that he'd baled the day before. The big, round bales dotted the pasture. His cattle grazed among the bales.

His cattle. His land. His church. That last part didn't feel as good as the rest. What had started as a simple plan now knotted inside his gut like the worst idea he'd ever had. Maybe he'd always known he wouldn't be able to do it.

The dozer was still sitting on the trailer.

So what did he do now? Head back to Tulsa? He glanced back into the church and his gaze attached to the back of Beth's dark head. She turned and smiled, as if she'd known he was there, watching her.

Last night had changed things and he still didn't know how. He didn't know if he'd given up on the church or if he'd given up on being here because he didn't know how to be a Cooper, a citizen of Dawson or a man in Beth's life. He didn't even know why that last part was in the equation.

If he went back to Tulsa, he could slip back into his old life. He kind of liked that life. It was definitely a lot less complicated. He could keep this land, build his shop and let someone else manage the place. That had been his initial plan. He'd never considered living here full time. He'd planned on building a house where he could stay once in a while.

He was Jeremy Hightree, not Jeremy Cooper. He could climb on the back of a bull and never break a sweat, never get lost in fear or the battle for the championship. Cool on the back of a bull, that was what they'd said about him.

Yesterday he'd bought a basketball net. Actually, he'd bought two. He shook his head as he walked across the parking lot to his RV. Impulse shopping. He'd also bought a cheap volleyball set. He'd been planning activities for the community picnic that they were holding today on the grounds of Back Street Church.

He was starting to see that he was in a real crisis. He looked up and shook his head. He'd always heard that a guy couldn't outrun God.

Well, a guy could sure try.

But today he was going to finish putting together a basketball net, because the kids deserved something to do. He pulled his toolbox out of the back of his truck and grabbed one of the folding chairs from in front of his RV.

When the church bell rang, signaling the end of the service, the basketball net was finished. He lifted it and went for the sand that he'd use to fill the base. A truck drove by. He didn't recognize it. But he recognized the man behind the wheel and seeing him set Jeremy's blood to boiling. Chance Martin. Obviously he hadn't gotten the message about staying away from Beth.

Jeremy stopped walking and watched the other man slow down and glance in the direction of the church. It would be a cold day in a hot place before Jeremy would let that man lay one hand on Beth.

People were streaming out of the building and down the steps. Jeremy watched for Beth. He glanced back, saw that Chance had stopped his truck.

Where was Beth? And why in the world would Chance choose today, in front of this crowd, to cause problems?

Maybe he wouldn't. Jeremy liked the thought that the other man would pull on down the road and leave well enough alone. It was Sunday. Jeremy didn't want to have to hurt this guy, not today, not on Sunday.

Beth walked out the front door of the church, talking to Rachel Johnson, Wyatt's wife. The two were laughing, totally oblivious to Chance's presence. Jeremy put the sandbag he carried on the base of the basketball net and started toward Beth.

A truck door slammed. He glanced toward the road and saw Chance heading across the lawn of the church, pushing through the crowd. Jeremy picked up his pace. He reached the steps of the church right after Chance. Jeremy wasn't alone. More than a dozen men had noticed the situation. Including Jason Bradshaw who was fast-tracking toward his sister.

Beth stood on the porch, her eyes large, focused on Chance.

“Chance, I think you should leave.” Jeremy took a step forward, putting himself on the steps of the church.

“Jeremy, I'd recommend you stay back from my wife.” Chance turned to face him. He'd been a skinny kid back in school. He'd outgrown that phase.

“I'm not your wife, Chance.” Beth walked down the steps. Jeremy wanted to stop her, but man, she looked determined. She looked like a woman who wasn't backing down. Maybe she'd done too much of that in the past.

“Yes, Beth, you're my wife. We were married legal and binding and that divorce document doesn't mean a thing to me.”

“I'm not afraid anymore, Chance. I'm not going to let you quote verses to scare me. I'm not going to let you use God as an excuse for hurting me. I'm not afraid.”

Jeremy wanted to cheer her on, but he could only stand there and wait. She was beautiful and strong, but he could see her legs trembling. She sneaked a glance in his direction and he smiled.

And then Chance rushed up the steps and grabbed her. Taken by surprise, Jeremy was a stupid moment too late. He watched as Chance's hand came up, connecting with Beth's face. And then he took the steps two at a time and made it just in time to grab Chance Martin as he fell backward, groaning in pain.

Jeremy held Chance by the arms. The other man was fighting mad and Beth stood there trembling but okay, rubbing the fist that had punched Chance. A bruise was already turning her cheek blue. That bruise went all
over Jeremy. He pulled his hand back and spun Chance around. A hand grabbed his fist.

“Bad idea.” Jackson shook his head and grinned. “There's a deputy pulling up. Why don't you let me take Chance to meet his destiny?”

Jackson grabbed Chance and Jeremy watched them walk away. He took a deep shaky breath and turned to find Beth still standing on the steps of the church. Jason had a protective arm around her and Buck had turned and was headed in the direction of the patrol car.

“You okay?”

“I'm good.” Her chin came up a notch. He recognized someone trying to be strong. He'd made that same move too many times to count. It had started when he was a kid and some well-meaning grown-up would ask if he needed anything.

He was always good.

Even when he was a kid and scared to death.

“Yeah, I know you are.” He didn't reach for her hand. Instead he changed the subject. “Want to see what I've been doing while you were in church?”

The cop was putting Chance in the back of the patrol car.

She smiled a wavering smile. “You were in there, too.”

“Yeah, I was there, too.”

Jason moved, let his sister go. “Take a walk, sis. This will blow over and everyone will calm down.”

She nodded and joined Jeremy. He didn't reach for her hand, didn't put his arm around her. Instead they headed for his RV and the parking lot, not touching but walking side-by-side.

They didn't make it far. The deputy caught up with
them, tall and purposeful, his hand on his sidearm, probably out of habit. Domestic abuse ranked as one of the most dangerous calls a cop could make.

Beth hugged herself and watched the officer approach. How many times had she lived through similar moments? She weaved a little. So much for being strong. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close.

“Beth, do you want to press charges?” Officer Hall stopped in front of them. He was an older deputy. Jeremy remembered him from years ago. He'd been to their house more than once. A few times, along with caseworkers from family services.

“I…” Beth glanced at the patrol car. How many times in the past had she said no? “Yes. I do want to press charges.”

“It's what you need to do, Beth.” Jason Bradshaw joined them. He smiled at his sister. “You aren't alone anymore. He doesn't have a right to hit you.”

“I know.” Finally she nodded. “I want to press charges.”

Jeremy stepped away and he watched Beth talking to the officer. He watched her fill out a form on the clipboard she'd been handed. Once she glanced his way. Did she want him to stand next to her, to be there with her as she did the one thing she'd always feared doing?

He pulled his keys out of his pocket and walked to his truck. All around him the good folks of Dawson were having fun. They were having a picnic on the grounds of Back Street Church. The kids were already shooting hoops and someone had set up the volleyball net. It leaned precariously to the east and the girls playing
were laughing and having a great time with the cheap ball and net.

He suddenly flashed back twenty years, when he was a kid of ten, tossing a ball to one of the Cooper boys while Tim talked to the pastor. Jeremy shook free from the memory and climbed into his truck.

 

Beth finished filling out the complaint against Chance. She glanced in the back of the patrol car. His head was down. He looked contrite. In a moment he would smile at her. He would mouth an apology and ask her to forgive him. She knew because this was a scene that had played out too often in their marriage.

“Beth, don't let him make you feel sorry.” Jason was at her side. She smiled up at him.