Roaring Fork Rooker, page 13
“JW. What brings you by this afternoon?”
I glanced around the nearly empty restaurant, noting that Keltie was nowhere to be seen. “I was hoping we could talk. About Maya—I mean Echo.”
Victor set down his pen and studied my face. He gestured toward a corner booth, the same one where Echo had sat that night after the parade. “Want some coffee?”
“Please.”
Before he returned with two steaming mugs, I noticed Keltie had come out from the kitchen to take his place.
“Is this a bad time?” I asked when he settled across from me.
“Not at all. I was getting ready to take a break anyway. So, you and Echo?”
I nodded.
“The two of you have been dancing around each other since the parade. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know how to approach her,” I admitted. “Every time we talk, she shuts down. Every casual encounter in town leaves her looking like she wants to run.”
Victor studied my face with the same intensity he had when I was a young buck he was attempting to teach about life. “You know, I remember you together. You reminded me of me and my wife when we first met.”
My hands stilled around the coffee mug. “Victor—”
“No, let me say this.” He leaned forward, lowering his tone. “I saw what you had. The way she’d look for you when she came to work, how her whole face would light up when you walked into a room. And you—hell, son, you looked at that girl like she hung the moon.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. The memories his words evoked cut too deep. “I know what we had. That’s what makes this so hard.”
“What you don’t know is what happened after you left.”
My blood chilled, thinking back on her saying I’d destroyed her. “What do you mean?”
Victor’s expression darkened. “Echo didn’t just lose her boyfriend, JW. That girl was completely broken.”
I forced myself to ask the question I dreaded. “How bad was it?”
He shook his head slowly. “Terrible. At first, she continued coming to work, but was only going through the motions. She’d stare out the window during her shifts. Customers would have to call her name three times before she’d notice them.”
The coffee turned bitter in my mouth. I set the mug down with unsteady hands. “How long did this go on?”
“For a while. Then one day, she called and said she was sorry, but she couldn’t work here anymore.”
“No notice?”
“Even if she’d given it, I would’ve paid her severance and told her she didn’t need to return. I knew how hard being here was for her.”
“What else, Victor?”
“She disappeared for months. When she finally came back to Crested Butte, she was different.” He leaned back in the booth. “Stronger, somehow. Like she’d found her backbone while she was away. But there was a sadness in her that wasn’t there before. A guardedness.”
“Did she return to work?”
“No. Right after, I sold the Goat to the Rice family and moved to Albuquerque.”
“God, I—”
He held up a hand. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty, JW. Well, maybe a little.” His manner grew firmer. “You said she shuts down when you see her. This is why.”
“She won’t even give me a chance to explain.”
“Can you blame her?” His question was gentle but pointed. “From her perspective, you left without a trace. No goodbye, no explanation, no contact. I know you had no choice, but that had no bearing on how she was affected.”
I rubbed my temples, feeling the familiar burden of decades-old regret. “I want her to know why—”
“Then, tell her.”
“How can I when she won’t listen?”
Victor leaned forward again. “JW, I’ve known you since you were born. I watched you build a life from nothing, seen you carry burdens that would break most men. You are strong enough to get through to her.”
“But—”
He cocked his head and raised a brow. “You know, when I first saw her at Children’s Hospital—when Luna was so sick—I didn’t recognize her. Didn’t put two and two together.”
“You had a lot on your mind.”
“That, and I knew her as Maya Zaneta, not Echo West.”
“West?” I thought back to when Flynn introduced us, but couldn’t recall if she’d said a last name. She was married? No. She couldn’t be. I would’ve noticed a ring, and even if she didn’t wear one, I was sure she would’ve told me.
“From what I’ve heard, she was married a long time ago, but it didn’t last long.”
The thought of Echo married to someone else sent a spike of jealousy through me that I had no right to feel. “Victor, what should I do?”
“Be honest with her. Tell her everything. And then be patient.” He reached across the table and gripped my shoulder. “Don’t give up on her, JW. What you had is worth fighting for. She’s worth fighting for.” He looked up at the clock. “Break time’s over.”
We embraced, and I thanked him, then spent the rest of the afternoon walking the streets of Crested Butte, his words echoing in my mind.
By evening, I’d made my decision. I had to tell her what had happened all those years ago, even if I had to beg her to listen.
I found her at the farmer’s market a few days later, purchasing vegetables at a produce stand.
“Echo,” I said, reminding myself that was who she was now. Not Maya. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“JW—”
“Please. There are things you need to know. Things that might help you understand why I left.”
She studied me for a long moment, then glanced around at the bustling market. “Not here.”
“Wherever you’re comfortable.”
“There’s a park near the school. It’s usually quiet this time of day.”
Since it was only a few blocks away, we walked but didn’t speak.
“What did you want to tell me?” she asked fifteen minutes later when we sat at a picnic table.
I took a deep breath, knowing that what I said next would either begin to heal the rift between us or destroy any chance we might have had.
“My name is John William Rooker,” I began. “You knew me as John Williams. When I had to disappear, I changed it to Javier Wyatt.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Why? I mean, why so many different names?”
“For protection.” I looked out over the valley, gathering the courage for what came next. “The woman you know as Patricia Wheaton—Flynn’s mother—was my aunt. My father’s sister.”
I explained about Patricia and why I really had to leave all those years ago. About my father’s attempt to force her to end her pregnancy, about Cena Covert and her arranging for a place for Patricia to live in Colorado. I told her about the years I’d spent protecting her family from the shadows, watching over children who hadn’t known who I was until recently or the secret role I’d played in their lives.
When the story ended, Echo didn’t say anything for several minutes.
“So you didn’t even tell me your real name,” she finally said.
“JW was close. It’s what everyone called me, then and now.” I shook my head. “Sorry. You’re right. I didn’t. I lied to you.”
She turned to face me fully. “Why? When we were together, when we were making plans—why couldn’t you trust me?”
My voice caught, and I had to clear my throat before I could answer. “Because I was eighteen when we came here, and I’d been taught that our safety—Patricia’s safety—depended on never telling anyone who we really were. By the time I understood that you could be trusted, that you were someone I wanted to share everything with, it was too late.”
“Too late, how?”
“My brother was getting close to finding us, and that meant staying would put you in danger. And if I’d told you what was happening, you might have insisted on coming with us, and I couldn’t ask you to give up your whole life for someone who was essentially living a lie.”
She stood and walked a few feet away, her back to me. “You made that choice for both of us.”
“Yes. And it was wrong.” The admission reopened old wounds. “I should have told you everything. Given you the option to decide for yourself.”
“Do you have any idea what it was like?” She turned to face me. “One day, we’re talking about our future, and the next, you were just gone.”
I stood abruptly, took a step toward her, then stopped myself. My hands hung uselessly at my sides. “I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“But you still did it.”
“I told myself I was protecting you. From my father, from the complications of my life, from having to live in hiding.” I moved closer, though I didn’t try to touch her. “I was wrong.”
She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Why are you telling me this now? Why are you even here?”
“Because the obligations that kept me away are finished. Because I never stopped thinking about you. And when I saw you at the parade, I felt like fate was giving us another chance.”
“I need time to think. Even after I have, I can’t say for sure that I’ll want to see you.”
“I understand.”
My heart sank as I watched her walk away.
16
ECHO
Aweek had passed since JW’s revelation at the park. The lies he’d told—about his name, his past, his reasons for being in Crested Butte—felt like betrayals even as his explanations made sense. John William Rooker, not the JW I’d known. Patricia Wheaton’s nephew, bound by promises and secrets that predated our relationship by years. His abandonment hadn’t been about me at all. I was collateral damage.
I’d thrown myself into work, reviewing grant applications and visiting families whose children needed our support. The routine provided a distraction from my churning thoughts about JW and what his presence in my life might mean.
I was in the office earlier than usual when Melanie knocked on my door and stepped inside, waving an envelope addressed to Miracles of Hope. “This came in yesterday’s mail. Anonymous donation. Pretty substantial.”
I pulled out the contents after she’d handed it to me, and my eyes flared. Tucked into a folded sheet of paper was a cashier’s check for fifty thousand dollars, made out to the charity. “In memory of Scarlett Blanche Wheaton,” was in the memo line.
I read the accompanying note out loud. “This donation honors a little girl who fought bravely and the mother who never stopped loving her. May it help other families find hope in their darkest hours.”
Scarlett Blanche. Patricia’s first daughter, the child who’d died of leukemia before Flynn was born. Only someone with intimate knowledge of the family would know that name and understand its significance to the charity Patricia had founded in her memory.
I suspected it was from JW, but found it curious that he would give it anonymously rather than get the recognition and gratitude if it had been done publicly. That he’d chosen to honor Scarlett’s memory quietly said a lot about his character.
“Thanks for showing this to me,” I said, putting everything back in the envelope and holding it out to Melanie.
Over the following couple of weeks, I noticed JW around town several times. One morning, he was having breakfast at McGill’s with Keltie and Holt, listening as Luna chattered about her upcoming school play. When baby Scarlett fussed, he gently bounced her while Luna showed him a drawing she’d made.
Another day, I saw him outside the grocery store with Flynn and her family. Paxon and Rooker were climbing on the wooden bear sculpture while Irish loaded bags into their SUV. JW held baby Rowan, bouncing her when she fussed.
Each sighting revealed the same thing. He’d slipped into the lives of people I cared about. The Wheaton family had embraced him as one of their own, and he fit in like he’d always been there.
When our paths crossed directly, his demeanor was always warm but respectful. A polite nod when we passed on the street. A courteous “good morning” at the post office. He never lingered, never pushed for conversation, never made me feel uncomfortable.
“Hey, Echo?” said Melanie, jarring my attention back to the case files I was reviewing.
I raised my hand, motioning for her to enter.
“Have you heard about the guy who’s staying at the Roaring Fork?”
I shook my head.
“Rumor is he’s related to the Wheatons. Anyway, I met him at the farmer’s market last weekend, and honestly, I could barely form complete sentences.” She laughed. “He’s got long, silver-streaked hair, eyes I couldn’t stop staring into, and that body. Not to mention he’s sweet enough to help me carry my bags to my car when he noticed me struggling with them.”
My grip on my pen was so tight my knuckles turned white.
“Someone else said he owns a ranch in New Mexico. I wonder if he’s single.” Melanie got up and left, apparently so taken with JW’s memory that she didn’t realize I hadn’t said a word.
After she left, I sat staring out my office window. Despite my anger, despite my hurt, despite my decision to keep my distance, I wasn’t as immune to his presence as I’d wanted to believe.
The idea of JW with someone else, of him turning his attention toward another woman, set my teeth on edge. But I had no claim on him, no right to feel possessive about a man I’d been avoiding since I ran into him at the Fourth of July parade. Yet here I was, wanting to tell Melanie to stay the hell away from him.
Not that it had anything to do with her seeing JW at the farmer’s market, I made it a point to visit the following Saturday. I was about to give up hope of seeing him and take my peaches home when the sound of laughter caught my attention. When I turned to look, I spotted JW with Flynn and her family. Paxon and Rooker raced ahead of the group, exploring the various stalls. Irish followed with the stroller, while Flynn and JW walked together.
I watched as they stopped at the produce stand next to mine. Paxon immediately gravitated toward JW, tugging on his jacket to show him a rock he’d found. Instead of brushing off the child’s excitement, he knelt to Paxon’s level.
“That’s a perfect rock. You’ll have to show me where you found it.”
“Over there by the flowers!” Paxon pointed. “Rooker found one too, but mine’s better.”
“They’re both excellent rocks.”
When Rowan began fussing in her stroller while Flynn was paying for her purchases, JW lifted her out. She calmed against his shoulder, her tiny hand fisting in his shirt as she dozed. Still, he listened to Paxon’s and Rooker’s chatter while soothing the baby, giving each child his attention.
“Echo!” I heard Flynn call out at the same time JW looked up. Our eyes met across the market, and neither of us blinked. When he approached, still carrying Rowan, I didn’t budge.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the baby in his arms, the way she seemed content against his chest. “Rowan likes you.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” He adjusted her position. “How have you been?”
“Fine. Busy with work.” I gestured toward my bag of peaches. “The usual.”
We stood in awkward silence until he cleared his throat. “The Roaring Fork hosts a chuckwagon dinner for their guests every week. There’s food, a campfire, music…I was wondering if you’d like to come out some time.”
The invitation caught me off guard. “Oh, I, um, when’s the next one?” The question escaped before I could stop it.
“Tonight, actually. Six o’clock.” His eyebrows rose. “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”
I should have declined. Should have thanked him politely and made some excuse. “I’d love to,” I blurted instead, before I could stop myself.
His face transformed. “Really?”
“Really.” A smile tugged at my lips.
“Would you like me to pick you up? Say at five-thirty?”
“It’s okay. I can drive out myself.”
“Sure. Of course. You know the way, right?”
I smiled again. “I’ve been to the Roaring Fork many times.”
“Good. Well, I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
“You will.”
He turned to leave, but stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I’m really looking forward to it, Echo.”
“Me too,” I whispered once he was far enough away that he wouldn’t hear me.
Just as I walked in the front door of my house, juggling groceries, my cell rang. I dropped my bags on the counter and dug it out of my purse, delighted when I saw my son’s name flash on the screen.
“Hi, sweetheart. How are you? Are you in town?”
“Hey, Mom. Just got back and have a short break before I have to head out again. There’s a reason they call this time of year Cowboy Christmas. Back-to-back-to-back events practically every weekend.”
“How’s it going?”
“Solid season so far. Our bulls are rank. That’s about all we can ask for.” That was Kingston—understated even about his successes.
“It’s wonderful to have you home, sweetheart. I hope we can get together before you’re out on the road again.”
“That’s actually why I called. There’s a dinner at the Roaring Fork tonight, and Flynn’s saying my presence is mandatory. I wish I could get into town to see you, but it isn’t looking good. Any chance you could come out this way instead?”
“I’d love to,” I said rather than admitting his was my second invitation.
I spent the rest of the afternoon nervous and second-guessing myself. I changed clothes three times, finally settling on dark jeans and a blue sweater. Not because I wanted to impress anyone, I told myself, despite the ten times I checked my makeup before leaving the house.
