The Calamity Janes: Cassie & Karen: Do You Take This Rebel?

“I do,” he agreed, tossing his tools into the back of the pickup. “If you need me, I’ll be at the house.”

His father stared at him with a disgusted expression. “Working on that blasted computer, I suppose.”

“Exactly.”

With any luck he could create a computer game in which the meddling owner of a ranch was murdered by his put-upon son and nobody caught on.

From the moment she drove into the driveway at her mother’s place, Cassie was taken back in time. Nothing had changed. The little white house, not much more than a cottage, really, still had a sagging porch and needed paint. As always, there was a pot of struggling red geraniums in need of water on the steps. A swing hung from a sturdy but rusting chain. The white paint had long since chipped away, leaving the swing a weathered gray.

Inside, the walls were a faded cream, the drapes too dark and heavy, as if her mother was determined to shut out the world that had never been kind to her. A sewing basket, overflowing with colorful threads, sat beside the worn chair where her mother liked to work under a bare hundred-watt bulb.

They left Jake glued to the TV and went down the hall with the luggage. Cassie discovered her room still had posters of her favorite musicians on the walls and a Denver Broncos bedspread on one twin bed. She’d bought that navy-blue and orange spread as a rebellion against the pink paint and ruffled curtains her mother had insisted on. The second bed still had a frilly, flowered spread on it. Cassie suspected its mate was still shoved in the back of the closet, where she’d put it years ago.

“I haven’t changed anything,” her mother said, twisting her hands nervously. “I thought you’d like to know that home was always going to be the way you remembered it.”

Cassie didn’t have the heart to say that some things were best forgotten. Instead she gave her mother a fierce hug. For all of her flaws this woman had done her best to give Cassie a good life. She’d lost her husband in a freak accident at a grain elevator when Cassie was little more than a toddler, but she’d found a way to be a stay-at-home mom and keep food on the table. And despite her private disapproval of her daughter’s behavior and the occasional long-suffering sighs, she hadn’t turned her back on Cassie, not ever.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said, finally acknowledging what was long overdue.

Her mother looked startled and faintly pleased, but her face quickly assumed its more familiar neutral mask. “Will you and Jake be okay in here? You won’t mind sharing a room?”

“Of course not. This will be fine. We’re just glad to be here.”

“Are you?” her mother asked, peering at her intently. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long,” Cassie agreed, studying her mother’s face and seeing new wrinkles. There was more gray in her hair, too. “Jake and I have missed you.”

That pleased look came and went in a heartbeat. “Will your friends be home for the reunion?” Edna asked, retreating as always to a less emotional topic.

“I haven’t spoken to any of them recently. I hope so. It would be wonderful to see them again.”

Her mother shook her head. “I can’t imagine what Lauren must be like. Do you suppose all that fame has gone to her head? She certainly hasn’t spent a dime of the money she’s making on her folks. That house of theirs is tumbling down around them.”

“Don’t blame Lauren,” Cassie said. “Her parents wouldn’t take anything from her. They said an acting career was too precarious and she needed to save every last cent in case it didn’t last. Lauren hired a carpenter and sent him over, but her parents just sent him away.”

“That father of hers always was a stubborn old coot,” Edna said. “Still, all the attention she gets from TV and the newspapers must have changed her some.”

Cassie chuckled. “Lauren never cared about fame or money. I’m sure she’s as surprised as the rest of us about the turn her life has taken.”

“Well, Hollywood has a way of changing people. That’s all I’m saying,” her mother replied, disapproval written all over her face.

“Not Lauren,” Cassie said with absolute confidence. If any of them had her head on straight, it was Lauren. She was always the one to express caution when a prank threatened to get out of hand, always the one who came up with a thoughtful gesture to make amends when someone’s feelings were hurt.

“I suppose you know her better than I do,” her mother said, though her doubts were still evident. “Are you hungry? I’ve made some sandwiches, and there are cookies. Mildred brought them by this morning. Oatmeal-raisin. Your favorite, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Mildred’s oatmeal-raisin cookies were always the best,” Cassie enthused. And their neighbor had always come up with excuses for bringing over a plateful to share with a little girl whose own mother rarely baked. Those treats had earned Mildred a special place in Cassie’s heart. “I’ll have to stop by later to thank her.”

“She’d like that. She doesn’t get out much these days. Her arthritis makes it difficult for her to get around. Jake can stay with me while you and Mildred visit.”

Cassie’s gaze narrowed. “Don’t you think Mildred would like to see your grandson?”

“There’s nothing for a boy to do over there. He’d be bored,” Edna responded.

She said it in a hurried way that told Cassie she was only making up hasty excuses. “Mom, I can’t keep Jake hidden away in the house while we’re here.”

For an instant her mother looked ashamed. “No, of course not. I never meant to imply that you should.”

“Surely people have gotten over what happened by now.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. It’s just that...”

Cassie met her gaze evenly. She had known they were going to have to face this. Now was as good a time as any. “What?” she asked, prepared for battle.

“He looks so much like his father now.”

That was the last thing Cassie had expected her mother to say, but it was true. Jake did look like Cole, from his sun-streaked hair to his blue eyes, from those freckles across his nose to the shape of his mouth. Even the glasses were a reminder of the ones Cole had worn until high school, when he’d finally been persuaded to trade them for contacts.

Cole had been a self-described skinny, awkward geek until he’d gone away to college. There he’d begun to fill out, his body becoming less awkward and lanky. And after a summer at home working the ranch, his lean body had been all hard muscle by the time they’d started dating in earnest. Cassie imagined the same thing would happen to Jake one day, and that he would be breaking girls’ hearts just like his daddy had.

The shock, of course, was that her mother could see all that. “You know,” Cassie said flatly.

It was her mother’s turn to look startled. “Did you think I didn’t?”

“You never said a word.”

Her mother shrugged. “There was nothing to say. What was done was done. No point in talking about it.”

Cassie sank down on the bed, her thoughts in turmoil. All this time her mother had known the truth. She met Edna’s gaze.

“Is Cole...?” Her voice trailed off.

“He’s here,” her mother said tightly. “Has been ever since college. He came back to help out when Frank had a heart attack. If you ask me, the man talked himself into getting sick just to manipulate that boy, but they seem to be getting on well enough out there.”

Another secret kept, Cassie thought, just as she’d kept Cole’s identity a secret from Jake. Why did it surprise her that her mother could be reticent about something so important? Edna had always kept her own counsel, never saying more than the situation required for politeness. Even now she didn’t elaborate. If Cassie wanted to know more, she was going to have to ask directly.

“Is he married?” she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“No.”

Relief warred with surprise. Cole must be the county’s prize catch. How had he managed to elude all the single women of Winding River and their ambitious parents, especially with Frank Davis no doubt pressuring him to produce an heir?

It didn’t matter, she told herself sternly. It had nothing to do with her, except that it complicated her situation that Cole was still living right here. How could she possibly keep him from finding out that Jake was his son if he was practically underfoot? And if he did figure it out, what would his reaction be? Would he pretend ignorance or would he want to claim his son? She wasn’t sure which thought terrified her more. Explaining to Jake that his father was here when she’d always been so elusive about his whereabouts wouldn’t be any easier.

“Hey, Mom, can we eat? I’m starved.”

Jake’s voice cut into her thoughts. Struggling with the unexpected taste of fear in her mouth, Cassie stayed silent a minute too long, drawing a puzzled look from her son and an understanding one from her mother.

“I’ll get him his sandwich,” her mother offered. “You spend a few minutes unpacking and getting settled.”