too,” Arabella replied. “Thanks for the update. Now we need to pray Zach hears from Lucas.”
“I’m on it,” Brooke said before hanging up.
Arabella went back to her cooking, her prayers scattered from her cousin Lucas missing somewhere in Florida to Vivienne at loose ends in Denver and everyone in between. Especially Jasmine … and her uncle.
Jonathan walked up onto the inviting porch of what everyone called Clayton House. The big old Victorian looked pretty from a distance, but up close he could see the signs of wear and tear. The yellow paint was chipped and peeling in places and some of the big white shutters drooped with a heavy-lidded sway. This painted lady had seen better days. The house had to be over a hundred or so years old, so Jonathan took it in with a forgiving eye.
Maybe Arabella Michaels would be the same. Pretty from afar but worn a bit when he got up close. He almost wished that were true. Except last night she’d looked pretty good for a woman who’d come to confront him. He didn’t need the distraction of a pretty woman right now. He had to talk to Jasmine, tell her he wanted to give her a chance for a new life and then get back to his old life. If he kept taking time off from the hospital, he could be out on his own, searching for a new place to work.
The front door creaked open with a groaning cackle. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t hide in the bushes anymore.”
Jonathan gave Arabella a twisted smile. “I’m not hiding in the bushes. I’m right here in plain sight.”
“Then why didn’t you knock on the door? You’ve been standing there for at least five minutes.”
He took in her careless chignon and the soft green sweater she wore over old jeans. And she had on yet another pair of cowboy boots—these a rich, burnished brown that matched her upswept hair. Unlike the house, she did not look worn and frayed around the edges. She looked great. All natural and all attitude.
“I … uh … this is hard,” he said, his tongue tripping over his teeth. “I brought Jasmine a few things.” He shoved the gift bag and a small bouquet of flowers toward Arabella. “The flowers are for you. And … some stuffed animals for your girls.”
Arabella took the flowers and looked down at the big floral bag then back up at him, surprise and sweetness in her eyes. “I see you’ve been to the Flowers and Fancy Finds gift shop.”
“Dorothy recommended it. And asked me several pointed questions about why I wanted to buy frilly gifts.”
“I’ll reckon she did,” Arabella said, standing back. “C’mon on in. I might as well let you know—I told Jasmine everything and now she’s locked in her room. Cade’s supposed to come over in a little while.”
Jonathan’s heart knocked against his chest. “I didn’t want it to be this way.”
“She’s upset about her daddy. In spite of Aaron Turner’s nasty ways, I guess the girl still loved him.”
“He wasn’t always bad,” Jonathan said, following her into what looked like a parlor. He saw antique sideboards and cherrywood tables mixed with a modern brown leather couch and high-back chairs strewn with colorful pillows. In one corner, a massive wicker basket filled with children’s books and toys seemed to fit right in. Family pictures lined the bookshelves. “Maybe if I talk to her …”
Arabella pointed to a floral chair by the fireplace. “Have a seat. I’ll bring in coffee. I made vegetable soup and bread. And I have pie.”
“But—”
She whirled to stare at him, the big bag clutched in one and the flowers in the other. “I’m going up to tell her you’re here. Maybe she’ll come down.” Laying the bag on a side table, she said, “And if she doesn’t, well, you and I still need to have a long talk. So make yourself comfortable. This might take a while.”
Jonathan sat down, nonplussed by her bossy attitude. He was used to bossing people around, but it sure wasn’t as much fun to have the tables turned. He decided this trip wasn’t going to be as short and sweet as he’d imagined.
Things were getting more and more complicated by the minute. And from the frown on Arabella Michaels’s heart-shaped face, he had a feeling this was just the beginning.
Arabella found a crystal vase for the flowers. The fall arrangement contained vines and briar roses mixed in with fat burgundy mums and variegated sunflowers in amber and orange. It wasn’t very big and it wasn’t formal, but the cluster of flowers made a statement.
Was the man sitting in her parlor trying to make a statement, too?
She fussed with the arrangement and then put it in the middle of the long oak dining table. Jonathan’s act of kindness had touched her. But then she figured he was making nice before he met Jasmine and plied her with big-city dreams. And why would a busy single doctor want to deal with a teenager anyway?
Maybe because that teenager was his only family?
Arabella could certainly understand that concept.
She heard footsteps and saw Jasmine moving down the stairs, her eyes red-rimmed, her hair falling in gentle brown ribbons around her face. Before Arabella could say anything the girl marched across the entry hall and into the parlor, stopping inside the arched doorway.
Arabella hurried after her but stopped in the dining area behind Jasmine.
“So you’re my uncle?” Jasmine said it in the form of an accusation, the words sharp like arrows, her voice hoarse and raspy but determined.
Jonathan stood up, his hands going into the pockets of his jeans. “Uh … yes. I’m Jonathan. I’m sorry we had to meet this way.” His expression was filled with a cautious joy, but his eyes held a definite sorrow.
Jasmine didn’t say anything for a split second. Then she crossed her arms at her midsection and said, “And so, my daddy’s dead?”
Jonathan shot Arabella a helpless look and then focused on Jasmine. “Yes, he is. I’m sure you knew he was an alcoholic—”
“Yeah, I did know that. How did he die?”
Another pleading look. “He left a bar late at night and … apparently lost control of his truck on a curve.” He started to say more but held back. Finally, he said, “He died on impact.”
Jasmine raised a hand to her mouth then put her head down. “He wasn’t always so mean. He just couldn’t beat the liquor.”
“I know,” Jonathan said, his eyes burning with what looked like unshed tears. “I understand and I’m so sorry. He wasn’t always like that when we were growing up, either.”
Jasmine’s head came up. “What made him get that way?”
“It was probably the disease.” Jonathan stepped closer. “He followed our father’s example, I think maybe to have something in common with our old man. They used to drink together a lot once my brother got older.”
Jasmine swiped at her eyes. “But you turned out different? How’d that happen?”
He shrugged, his shoulders slumping, the weight of this discussion seeming to wear him down. “I tried to just survive. I … was younger. Aaron took the brunt of things. He wanted to protect me. I only wish I could have protected him.”
Jasmine whirled toward Arabella and rushed into her arms. Arabella grabbed hold and hugged Jasmine tight, warning Jonathan away when he moved toward the girl. “It’s all right. We’ve been through a lot together and we’ll figure this out. It’s gonna be okay, I promise.” She voiced that promise loud enough for the man standing there to hear it.
Jasmine sniffed and looked up at her. “I always thought he’d come back here one day. That he’d want to come back for me. Or maybe he’d show up at my wedding. Now I’ll never see him again.”
Arabella held her own tears inside. It wouldn’t