McFarlane's Perfect Bride / Taming the Montana Millionaire: McFarlane's Perfect Bride
me to come and get you?”
“Oh, no. It’s okay.” The girl paused to stifle a sob. “I can ride my bike. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ll be right over.”
When Jerilyn appeared, pedaling fast down the street, Tori was waiting for her, out on the porch.
“Oh, Ms. Jones.” Jerilyn dropped her bike on the front walk. Fresh tears welled. She ran up the steps and into Tori’s waiting arms.
Tori pulled the girl inside and shut the door. “Shh … shh. There now. Okay …”
When the sobbing settled down a little, Tori led her to the sofa, passed the tissues, and got the story out of her.
“My dad got a warning Thursday. From his supervisor. My dad hasn’t been getting the summer maintenance done. And if his work doesn’t improve in the next two weeks, he’s going to get fired.”
“Oh, Jerilyn.” Tori hugged her again. “Did your dad tell you this?”
Jerilyn blew her nose. “No way. He doesn’t tell me anything. I found the warning notice on the kitchen table, wadded up in a ball. And he started drinking Thursday night. He called in sick yesterday. He drank all day, late into last night. He was still at it when I finally went to bed. This morning, he won’t get up. I made breakfast. Just what he likes, scrambled eggs and home fries, sausage and English muffins. I tried to get him up to eat. He just growled at me to leave him alone.”
“Has he … hit you?” Tori hated to ask, but she knew that she had to. “Or hurt you in any way?”
Jerilyn sobbed and shook her head. “Oh, no. He just sits at the kitchen table and drinks and doesn’t say anything. Sometimes … he cries.”
Tori grabbed her close again. “Aw, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.” As she gave out the familiar litany of reassurances, she knew that in reality, it wasn’t okay. Not okay in the least.
“He would never hurt me.” Jerilyn swallowed more sobs. “Except that when he loses his job and we can’t pay the bills and… well, that will hurt me. That will hurt me really bad.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
Jerilyn sagged against Tori with a long, sad sigh. “Yeah. It is. It is going to happen.”
Tori took her by the shoulders. “Look at me. Do you trust me?”
“You know I do. Totally.”
“I’m going to call someone who can help, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to bring your dad back to you, to make sure he doesn’t lose his job.”
Jerilyn blinked away the tears. “Who are you going to call?”
“Someone who’s been through exactly what your dad’s going through. Someone who managed to survive. Someone who will know what to do.”
Tori’s father, Dr. Sherwood Jones, caught a one-o’clock flight to Bozeman and rented a car. By four that afternoon, he was sitting in Tori’s living room.
“I can’t promise anything,” he warned a pale-faced Jerilyn, who looked at him through red, puffy eyes. “And I can’t even talk to him unless he’s sober.”
“He should be, by now. Unless he’s started in drinking again.”
“You say he’s never hit you or been in any way violent with you? “
“No. He wouldn’t. He … hasn’t. Not ever. He’s just so sad and lonely for my mom. They were always so close. She was his very best friend in the world. Without her … it’s killing him, Dr. Jones. It’s hurting him so deep.”
“I understand.” He glanced over at Tori, who sat across the coffee table from him and Jerilyn. Tori gulped down the sudden lump in her throat. Her dad did understand. They both did. He told Jerilyn. “Tori and I lost her mother when Tori was a couple of years younger than you are.”
Jerilyn’s eyes filled with tears again. She turned her gaze to Tori and tried a wobbly smile. “I know. Ms. Jones told me that, right after my mom died.”
Sherwood clasped Jerilyn’s shoulder. “I think we should go to your house now, see if maybe your dad is sober, and willing to talk with me. Are you okay with doing that?”
Jerilyn’s dark eyes were wide—and determined. “Yes. I think we should. We should go now.”
“Well, all right then,” Sherwood said, with that gentle smile that always warmed Tori’s heart.
They were at the front door when the phone rang. Tori told them, “I’ll just get that and be out in a sec.”
Her dad and Jerilyn headed for the car as Tori answered the phone on the side table in the great room.
It was Connor. “I just called to tell you I really hope Jerilyn said yes about tomorrow. I told CJ she would be there and suddenly he can’t wait to go to a picnic at the Hopping H.”
His voice, so warm, threaded with wry humor, made her wish he was there, right then, at her side. She would lean into him and he would put his strong arms around her and she would feel she could handle anything, even the rough family problems of her star student—and what was she thinking?
He was never going to be the kind of man she could lean on. She really had to remember that. He was leaving when summer was over—and in the meantime, he was going to cause trouble in the town that she loved.
“Tori? You there?”
“Right here. I … haven’t invited her yet.”
“What is it? What’s happened?”
“It’s a long story, one I just don’t have time to go into right now.”
“What can I do? Anything.”
She almost smiled. When he talked like that, so ready to rush to her side if she needed him, she could almost forget that in his real life, he was a ruthless corporate shark determined to buy out the Thunder Canyon Resort and throw a bunch of people out of work. “No, really. Thank you.”
“Are you in trouble? “
“No. Don’t worry, please. It’s not about me. I’m perfectly okay. And I’ll explain it all later. Right now, I have to go.”
“Call me. As soon as you can. I mean it.”
“Yes. All right. I’ll call this evening. I promise.” She said a hurried goodbye and then rushed out to join and Jerilyn and Sherwood in his rental car.
Jerilyn lived in a small, run-down house in a South New Town neighborhood that had seen better days. The siding needed fresh paint and the porch boards creaked.
Inside, they found Butch Doolin sitting at the cluttered kitchen table in a T-shirt and a ragged pair of sweatpants. His bloodshot eyes were puffy from too much alcohol the day before and he sported a couple of days’ worth of dark beard.
But he had a cup of coffee in front of him—no liquor in sight. He looked hungover, but sober.
And more than a little surprised to see Jerilyn, her teacher and some man he’d never met before standing in the doorway to his living room. “Jerilyn? What’s going on? “
Tori’s dad stepped right up. “I’m Sherwood Jones, Mr. Doolin. We’re here to see if we can help.”
Butch frowned. “Help?” And then he slowly shook his head. He turned to Jerilyn and spoke with weary resignation. “Sweet girl, what have you been up to?”
Jerilyn put her hand over her mouth, swallowed hard, and then let her hand drop. “Daddy. I saw that warning letter. You’re going to lose your job. I had to do something. You can’t keep on like this.”
Tori