Second Chance Romance

“Well, she got stuck, and Jackson climbed all the way up a huge oak tree to save her.”

A hint of redness covered Jackson’s cheeks at her aunt’s praise.

“A cat, really? That’s commendable of you.” Melanie nodded.

A slight smile pulled on one side of his mouth. “It was when I decided what I wanted to do when I grew up.”

“Save cats?” Melanie blurted.

Judging by the raised eyebrow Aunt Phoebe threw in her direction, she obviously didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.

Jackson pushed his shoulders back. “Well, mostly people, but animals, too, if they need rescuing.” He flashed a satisfied smile. “I’ll never forget the feeling when I placed Marcie back into Miss Pearson’s wrinkled hands. She lived alone for thirty years after her husband died. Marcie was all she had.”

“Jackson has always had a good heart.” Aunt Phoebe grinned and patted his arm.

Barricaded.

That was what Melanie’s heart was now. She would do whatever she had to in order to protect herself from further anguish.

Aunt Phoebe took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You look tired, dear. Maybe we should leave so you can get some rest.”

Melanie squirmed, struggling to sit up. “First I need to talk to you about the reason I came to Sweet Gum.” She wouldn’t let the fact that she’d had an accident and was now in the hospital stop her from telling Aunt Phoebe the truth of her mission.

“You came to get some much-needed rest, child.” Aunt Phoebe slipped one arm and then the other into the sleeves of her raincoat.

“Yes, it’s true, but the main reason is to bring you back to DC to live with me.” She blew out a breath. There, she’d said it.

“What?” Jackson shouted and looked around the room. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

Aunt Phoebe rubbed the top of Melanie’s head. “Dear, you’re talking crazy. I would never leave Sweet Gum.”

Melanie noticed Jackson listening intently. He even shook his head a couple of times.

“Now, you get some rest. Dr. Roberts said you can go home in the morning.” Aunt Phoebe leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll prepare a big dinner, just like it’s Sunday.”

She shook her head. “Please, don’t go to any trouble for me. Besides, I’m not a big eater.”

“Nonsense. You need more meat on your bones.” She squeezed Melanie’s arm. “I don’t know how you keep warm. I’ll make you some crispy fried chicken. It’s Jackson’s favorite.” She turned to him. “You save your appetite, too. I’ll prepare a meal for the hero...and bring your sweet little girl since school’s out again tomorrow for that teacher workday.”

Jackson nodded. “Sounds great. Rebecca loves your fried chicken.” He looked in Melanie’s direction. “Rebecca’s my five-year-old daughter.”

Aunt Phoebe waved goodbye, and Jackson followed her. The door closed, and they were gone.

The IV drip hummed. Melanie covered her face with a pillow. She wanted to scream. She hadn’t come here to mingle with the locals. She just wanted to bring her aunt home. Jackson and his daughter weren’t family. Why did her aunt act as though they were related? Melanie took a sip of her water and rolled onto her side.

She wasn’t ready to be around children, not yet. Maybe never. She’d tried keeping a journal, like the doctor had suggested, but the pain felt even more real when she’d put her thoughts down on paper. What did her doctor know, anyway? He hadn’t lost his children—she’d seen the photo of him and his wife with three smiling boys on the corner of his mahogany desk. She yanked the sheet over her head, wishing she could stay hidden forever, but whether she wanted to or not, tomorrow she’d be having dinner with Jackson and his daughter.

* * *

As Jackson headed to the Whitesides’ house, his heart pounded. He couldn’t wait to see Rebecca. While he drove along their half-mile gravel driveway, his thoughts drifted to Melanie. How dare she suggest moving Phoebe to DC? She’d never even visited and knew nothing about her aunt’s life and how happy she was living in the valley. It was obvious Melanie was a woman with a heavy heart, but that didn’t give her a right to uproot Phoebe.

He pulled in front of the Whitesides’ house and honked the horn. Within seconds, Rebecca flew out the door. He smiled and watched the love of his life, his vivacious daughter, sprint toward his truck. She ran as though she was trying to reach the finish line and he was the prize. For a second, his joy turned to sadness as he wondered how many more years she would think of him as her hero. He pushed the thought away and jumped from the truck with open arms.

“Daddy, can I have a puppy? Please, can I?” Rebecca pleaded and took a giant leap into his arms.

“What? Who wants to sell my baby a puppy?” Jackson decided he’d play around a little with his daughter. He placed her back on the ground.

Rebecca frowned. “I’m not a baby.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll be six in a few months.”

“So tell me, what kind of dog is this?” The buzz around town was that Larry Whiteside was breeding a litter of Labrador retrievers.

With eyes wide and as blue as the ocean, Rebecca began to captivate him—as she always did. He’d have been the first to admit he was a softy when it came to his daughter and the things she asked for. “Mr. Whiteside said Sally is going to have her pups soon, and she’s big and yellow. He told me I had to ask you first,” Rebecca answered.

Jackson scratched his chin. “Let me think about it for a bit. Hmm...well, since our closest neighbors are ten miles down the road and they’re seventy-five years old, you just might need a little friend.”

Rebecca jumped up and down and then proceeded to twirl. She loved to twirl. “Yes! I’ll take care of her. I promise. I’ve already picked out a name. I want to call her Samantha.”

Jackson’s heart melted. He could never say no to his little girl. “We have a couple of days before the pups are born, and they will have to stay with their mama for a while.” He cupped her chin. “I do have one question for you, sweetie. What happens if all of Sally’s puppies are boys? What will you name him?”

“Daddy, come on. I’d call him Sam—duh.”

He laughed and gave her a big bear hug. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

Larry and Wilma Whiteside, along with their daughter Mary, Rebecca’s best friend, stood on their porch as he and his daughter walked to the front door to thank them for having Rebecca over. “Anytime Mary wants to come over for the night, she’s always welcome.” Jackson smiled as he reached to shake Larry’s hand.

As they walked back to the truck, Rebecca looked up. “Can she come tonight since tomorrow’s Friday and we don’t have school?” He lifted Rebecca in and buckled her seat belt.

“I think you two had enough time together for now. Besides, we have plans tomorrow.”

She bounced up and down in her seat. “What are we doing?”

He buckled his seat belt and turned the key in the ignition. “Miss Phoebe has invited us over for an early dinner. Her niece is visiting.”

“Is she the lady you rescued?” Rebecca asked and kicked her feet against the back of his seat.

“Where did you hear I rescued someone?”

“I heard Mrs. Whiteside telling Mr. Whiteside you saved a lady today.”

“Yes, she was Miss Phoebe’s niece. She’s from Washington, DC.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You know where DC is, don’t you?”

“Ah...duh, of course—it’s our nation’s capital.” She flashed a lopsided grin in the reflection. Jackson stifled his laugh. He wasn’t keen on her using “duh,” but sometimes it was too darn cute.

“Is she pretty?” The kicking subsided. “What’s her name?”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Her name is Miss Melanie.” Her face flashed in his mind, and his pulse quickened. “Yes, she’s very pretty.” He swallowed hard. Too pretty. What had he been thinking when he agreed to dinner?

Chapter Two (#u39b448fe-7b19-5423-92fa-39677bde9842)