Megan's Hero (The Callahans of Texas Book #3): A Novel (16 page)

“You must fill your dishwasher once a week.”

“That’s about right.”

“So why aren’t you out counting cows or fixing a fence or something?”

“It was supposed to rain. No sense starting something where I’d wind up getting wet.”

She removed a sealed bowl from the refrigerator. “It’s supposed to have rained all week.”

“But I knew that today it would. Remember that broken leg I told you about when you were in the hospital?”

She nodded as she dumped the icing from the bowl into the mixer bowl.

“It gets a little achy when the weather changes. Nothing bad, but enough to tell me when a storm is coming in. It’s more reliable than the forecast.”

“That’s what my grandpa used to say about his rheumatism.”

Another family member, another clue. “Does he live in San Angelo too?”

“He did part of the time. He passed away shortly before I left home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” She turned on the mixer.

Whoa!
Will was glad she didn’t see his startled reaction. That said volumes about the man.

She ran the mixer for a minute, turned it off, raised the beater, removed it, and placed it on a plate on the counter. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “I guess that’s an awful way to feel, but I’m being honest. He was as mean as a rattlesnake with a headache.”

Will watched as she tore off about a foot of plastic wrap and laid it on the counter. As she scooped a blob of icing from the mixing bowl, he asked quietly, “Did he beat you, Megan?”

She froze with the large spoon of icing poised in the air. A second later, she plopped the icing on the plastic wrap and dipped more out of the bowl without looking at him. “How did you guess?”

“When you got in the truck after the tornado, you said you felt like you’d been beaten up. Something in your tone gave me the impression that you were speaking from past experience.”

She rolled the plastic into a cone shape with a long tail and dropped it into a pastry bag, also cone shaped. After pulling the clear plastic through the metal tip on the end of the bag, she snipped it off.

She walked over to the sink, wet a clean dish towel, and wrung it out thoroughly. “We didn’t see him very often. Mom stayed clear of him as much as possible.”

“He was her father?”

“Yes. He’d come by occasionally just to give us a bad time. It didn’t take much to make him mad as a hornet and earn a smack. When I was fourteen, I didn’t get him a cup of coffee fast enough, and he beat the stuffin’ out of me before my uncle could stop him.”

Too bad the old man was dead. Will tamped down his anger. “How bad were you hurt?”

“A black eye, busted lip, and bruises all over. It could have been worse. He knocked me down and was drawing back to kick me when Uncle Riley tackled him.”

“I hope he got jail time.”

She shook her head. “Not for that. Mom was too scared of him to call the cops. I wasn’t hurt bad enough to need a doctor, so it never got reported.”

Will tightened his fingers around the top of the chair.
Calm down.
The last thing she needed was to see how angry he could get. He couldn’t believe they hadn’t taken her to a doctor.

“What did he go to jail for?”

“A month later, he robbed a convenience store and shot the clerk.”

“Did he kill him?”

“No, thank goodness. He wasn’t hurt badly. A patrol car was going by, and the officers saw it happening. When Grandpa ran out with a bag of money in one hand, his pistol in the other, they were waiting for him. We all figured if he died in prison it would be from a fight, but it was a massive heart attack.”

She leaned against the counter and wiggled a spatula at him. “Enough conversation, Callahan. I have to concentrate on this cake, and I can’t do it with you sitting there yakking.”

“You’re going to turn me out in the rain?” He gave her his best sad hound-dog look. As if to emphasize his point, thunder rumbled and rain pounded the tin roof.

“You won’t melt.” A tiny smile lifted the corners of her lips.

“I might. Since I’m so sweet and all.” He stood and tucked the chair underneath the table. “How ’bout if I wander off into the living room and catch up on world events on the laptop. I’ll be quiet as a church mouse.”

“Do churches really have mice?” She smiled up at him as he stopped in front of her and rested his hands at her waist. Or what used to be her waist.

“Can’t say as I’ve ever seen any at ours. They must be sneaky as well as quiet.”

Did she have any idea how pretty she was? Or that she had a splatter of icing on her cheek? He reached up and gently brushed it off with his thumb. “Icing.”

“Are you sneaky?” She lifted a delicate eyebrow.

“Nope. Unless I’m trying to pull a prank on Chance or Nate. Generally, what you see is what you get.”

Her expression softened as she searched his face. “I like that.”

Leaning down, he brushed a light kiss on her forehead. “Good.”

He headed toward the living room, whistling a happy tune.

“Hush, Will Callahan.” Laughter tinted her voice.

“Yes, ma’am.” But the tune kept running through his mind.

That evening they sat together on the couch, their bare feet resting on pillows on the coffee table. Will was surprised but pleased when Megan let him put his arm around her and tuck her in close. The plan was to watch the baseball game, but five minutes after it started, she was asleep, her head resting on his shoulder. He muted the TV so it wouldn’t disturb her and halfway watched the game.

His thoughts kept going back to their earlier discussion. Considering her family background, he was amazed that she’d done so well. Striking out on her own had been dangerous, but maybe not any riskier than staying with her mother. As for her grandfather, dying of a heart attack was too merciful.

Resting his jaw against her hair, he breathed the light flowery fragrance of her shampoo. He couldn’t quite pinpoint the scent to a particular flower. It was more like a mixed bouquet, similar to something his mom might have sitting on the dining room table in the spring.

Would his wife enjoy putting fresh flowers on the table? What else would she change in his bachelor pad? He liked his house and had done what he could to make it feel like home. But it needed a woman’s touch to give it life. Megan’s?

His gaze drifted to her round stomach. He could provide well for Megan and her child. She would never have to worry about having a good place to stay, food to eat, or clothes to wear. Sweet Baby could go to the finest college, have a business, or do anything she wanted.

Equally important, she’d have a daddy who loved her and would keep her safe. Something Megan never had. She’d called him a fixer, and it was an accurate description. Was that what he was trying to do? Fix her life? Was he thinking about marrying her for the wrong reason?

What were the right reasons? Love, certainly. But falling in love didn’t mean you were right for each other. Jenna had loved her first husband, or thought she did, and he had almost destroyed her. Of course, Jimmy Don was a selfish jerk who loved only himself. Unlike sweet Megan. Even if he hadn’t already seen evidence of a gentle heart and caring soul, the love she had for her baby showed him the kind of woman she was.

He straightened his neck before he got a crick in it, and leaned his head against the back of the couch. Friendship, respect, and compatibility were important in a marriage. As was shared faith. That ranked at the top of his list. He had known Jesus and God for as long as he could remember. She met God in a bar ditch beside the road, and she had earnestly been seeking to know him better ever since.

Will had always believed he couldn’t marry without love. He still didn’t want to, but if all the other elements were there, would it be wrong? Did that automatically doom the relationship to failure? How did you know you were in love anyway?

He’d asked Chance, but he hadn’t been any help. “You just know,” his younger brother had proclaimed with honest sincerity. Will guessed Chance was right, for himself anyway. Nate wasn’t any help, either. He’d fallen in love with Jenna when he was fifteen, and she’d been the only woman for him ever since.

Megan shifted slightly and laid her hand on her stomach, but she didn’t wake up. The baby must be wiggling around again.

Lord, I need some help here
.
Guidance and wisdom.
If he married Megan, it needed to happen before the baby came. This child deserved to have two parents when she was born. He also didn’t want to have to adopt her, like Nate had done with Zach. It hadn’t been too big of a hassle because Jimmy Don had agreed to it right away. Still, life would be much simpler if his name was on the birth certificate.

Sweet Baby Callahan. Needed a little work. Will smiled and glanced back at the TV. The Rangers had just made a home run, and here he was thinking about baby names. Sure as shootin’ his single days were quickly coming to an end.

And that was more than all right with him.

He noticed the Bible and spiral notebook sitting beside the recliner. Megan had bought her own Bible last week. At her request, Pastor Brad had given her some notes and Scriptures to read to help her learn about Jesus.

He felt a little Holy Spirit nudge to see if she had any questions about what she’d been studying.

She stirred, stretched, and tried to sit up straighter. He moved his arm to make it easier for her. “Hi, Sleeping Beauty.”

Leaning her head against the couch, she looked up at him. “Have I been out for long?”

“About twenty minutes. A nice little catnap.”

“Thanks for letting me snooze.”

“Sure.” Like he was going to make her stay awake. He motioned toward the Bible. “Been studying?”

“Whenever I have time. Not so much the past few days. When I stop working I fall asleep if I try to read.”

“I’ve done that plenty of times. I try to read my Bible when I first get up, but that doesn’t always work if I’m still groggy. Do you have any questions about anything you’ve read?”

“Is it really so simple? All I have to do to be saved is to believe that Jesus died for me? That he paid for my sins by giving his life?”

“Pretty much. You need to believe that he’s the only Son of God.” She nodded, making him smile. “And that he came back to life, or in Christian parlance, he rose again. That’s how he defeated death and gives us eternal life.”

“I believe all that.” She leaned forward rather clumsily and picked up her glass of water, taking a long drink. When she settled back, she scooted over a bit and turned toward him. “The Bible says that’s what happened, and Pastor Brad says the Bible is the Word of God. God’s instruction manual to us.”

“That’s right.”

“I know I’m a sinner, and I asked God to forgive me. But don’t I have to do anything else? Nothing is free. How do we earn God’s love and forgiveness?”

Will took a moment to sip his iced tea, gathering his thoughts as he set the glass on the end table. “We don’t have to earn it. Can’t earn it. Had you done anything to cause God to save you from the tornado?”

“No. I asked him to save us, begged him to not let my baby die. I sure didn’t deserve it, but Sweet Baby was innocent. I’d never had anything to do with God. I’d never prayed in my life.” She smoothed the edge of her top where the hem was turned up. “Mrs. Hoffmann believed in him and talked about how loving he was. I didn’t know if he was real or just a myth that she clung to. But I had nowhere else to turn.” She broke away from Will’s gaze, her expression thoughtful, and rested her hands in her lap. “I had no one else to believe in.

“Up until that day on the highway, I’d never had any reason to think God cared about me. Nobody except Mrs. Hoffman ever did, so why should he?” Looking at him again, she took a deep breath. “You’ve probably figured out that life was tough when I was a kid.”

He reached over and curled his fingers around hers. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

She hesitated and lowered her eyes. “The best meals I had were the ones we got at homeless shelters. The only thing I remember Mom cooking was scrambled eggs, when I was five. She showed me how to do it. From then on, if I wanted eggs—or if she wanted them—it was up to me to make them.”

Will stared at her. She couldn’t be serious. “How did you reach the stove?”

“Climbed up on a chair. Just like I did to wash the dishes. We lived in a low-rent apartment complex for a while, and the manager left a chair in the laundry room so I could put clothes in the washing machine and dryer.” Somehow, she managed a smile. “Chairs are handy things.”

“Yes, they are.” He remembered Jenna standing on a chair when she was little, helping their mom make cookies. She’d even had one at the sink to help with the dishes—back when she thought it was fun. But his mother or Ramona had always been there to supervise, to make sure she was safe. And to help.

“When I was real little, before I started school, we usually had some cold cereal on hand, but not always milk. Most of the time there were eggs, bread, and margarine because Mom liked eggs with toast and jelly. Sometimes she’d make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Or as soon as I could, I’d make it myself. I ate a lot of macaroni and cheese. A box of it would last a couple of days. And Top Ramen.”

“No meat? Fruit and vegetables? No candy?”

“Sometimes she’d get a few bananas, but no vegetables. She hated veggies. She avoided sweets because she was afraid she’d get fat. All she had going for her was her looks. So she rarely bought me candy or cookies. Maybe that’s why I love desserts now.”

“Or it could be because you make such great ones.”

She grinned and moved back around to put her feet on the coffee table again. “Thanks. But if I didn’t like ’em, I wouldn’t go to the trouble of making them.”

“Didn’t she have money for food? Couldn’t she get food stamps or something?”

“She did get food stamps. They used to come as coupons, and when you bought something, you’d get the change if it didn’t take the whole amount. As soon as she got the new allotment, she’d go to several stores and buy a little something in each one.”

“So she could get cash back.”

She nodded and absently rubbed the bottom of her left foot with her other one. “Party and beer money. When the state switched to a debit-type card, only the amount actually spent could be deducted from the account. So she’d buy groceries for someone else, and they’d pay her seventy-five cents on the dollar.”

“Now I understand why you were trying so hard to make it on your own, even though there was help available.” He’d done some checking. The state had special programs to help low-income pregnant women.

“The day of the tornado, I had exactly fifty-five dollars and twenty-one cents to my name. I’d already decided that I had to find a shelter because I had just enough gas to get to Abilene. I’d have to fill up the tank again to look for work. If I didn’t find a job within a few days, I would have applied for emergency aid. Either way, I was going to apply for medical assistance. I’d been foolish not to do it months earlier. When you insisted on taking me to the hospital, I was embarrassed that I hadn’t already done it.”

“I know. That made me want to help you even more.” He ran back over the beginning of their conversation. “Getting back to your question—salvation is a gift. We can’t do anything to earn it, but we do have to believe it and acknowledge it, which you’ve done. I suspect, in your own way, you’ve already asked him to be Lord of your life.”

When she frowned slightly, he tried to explain better. “When you make Jesus Lord of your life, it means that he’s in charge. You want to live the way he wants you to, and you trust him to guide you by the Holy Spirit and through what you learn in Scripture. You pray and try to get it right. And when you don’t, you ask him to forgive you and you try again. He knows we aren’t perfect. He’s the only one who was. But he does expect us to keep trying to do what’s right and live the way he teaches us to. And love him. That’s at the top of his wish list because he loves us.”

“I haven’t put it in those exact words, but I do ask him to guide me. I want to live the way he wants me to, but I think I have a long way to go.”

“Believe me, sugar, so do I. Your heart is right, and you’re doing the best you can. That’s all any of us can do.”

“That’s a big relief. I see all of you helping with things at church and in the community, and I was afraid I was messing up because I just sit there like a bump on a log.”

“No one expects you to pitch in. You’re pregnant, remember?”

She laughed softly. “How can I forget. I just don’t want people thinking I’m a slouch.”

“I’m no expert on mamas-to-be, but I’ve noticed that even the ones most involved in church activities cut way down about this point. Their main focus is staying healthy, not getting too tired, and delivering a strong, healthy baby.” He slid his arm around her and gently pulled her against his side. “And that’s what you should be doing. No more big projects.”

“There you go, being bossy again.” She slipped her fingers between his.

“You know I’m right.” He couldn’t resist a little teasing. “As usual.”

“I don’t buy that as usual part, but I’ll admit you were right on the wedding cake. It was scary-close to being too much to handle. I won’t tackle another one for six months, at least.”

“People will remember it. I have no doubt that you’ll have folks clamoring for you to make theirs when you’re ready to start up again. That’s when small town gossip pays off. You let a few people know you’re back in business, and before the week’s out everybody within twenty miles will know it. When you put it all together tomorrow, it will be spectacular.”

She tipped up her head, looking at him with a happy smile. “It is amazing, isn’t it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He brushed her cheek with his fingertips, and his heart rejoiced at the soft welcome he saw in her eyes. “And so are you.”

Leaning down, he did what he’d longed to do for weeks. He kissed her with all the tenderness in his heart.