Brenda Minton - The Cowboy's Holiday Blessing

“And this young lady is my problem why?” He shifted his attention from Madeline Patton to the girl at her side.

The girl glared at him. He guessed her to be about thirteen. But for all he knew she was sixteen. Or ten. Kids grew up too fast these days. And yeah, when had he started sounding like his parents? He’d kind of thought if he didn’t get married and have kids it wouldn’t happen.

Wrongo.

He leaned against the door frame. The dog had joined him and was sitting close to his legs, tongue lapping up cool air.

“Mr. Cooper, it is your problem…”

“Call me Jackson.” He grinned and she turned three shades of red. He could do one shade better than that. “And I’ll call you Maddie.”

Yep, from rose to pure scarlet cheeks.

“Madeline.” Her little chin raised a notch as she reminded him. “Please let me finish.”

He nodded and kept his mouth shut. Time to stop teasing the teacher. But for the craziest reason, one he couldn’t grab hold of at the moment, he couldn’t stop smiling at her. Maybe he’d never noticed before that her smile was sweet and her eyes were soft brown.

Maybe it was the pain meds talking to his addled brain, scrambling his thoughts the way his insides were already scrambled. Something was causing random thoughts to keep running through his mind. Worse, to jump from his mouth.

“Mr. Cooper, this young lady was dropped off at my house by her aunt. She left the girl and drove away.” She paused a long moment that felt pretty uncomfortable. He got the distinct impression that she was making a point, and he didn’t get it.

“Why is that my problem?”

The girl stepped forward. A kid in a stained denim coat a size too small and tennis shoes that were worn and holey. She brushed back blond hair with bare hands red from the cold. When had it gotten this cold? A week ago it had been in the sixties.

The kid gave him a disgusted look. “What she’s trying to tell you is that I’m your daughter.”

“Excuse me?” He looked at her and then at the teacher. Madeline Patton shrugged slim shoulders.

“I’m your daughter.”

He raised his hand to stop her. “Give me a minute, okay?”

Jackson rubbed his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Deep as he could. He turned his attention back to the girl with the hazel-green eyes. He noticed then that the blond hair was sun-bleached, sandy brown more than blond.

The kid stared back at him, probably waiting for him to say or do something. Now, what in the world was he supposed to do?

“Aren’t you going to say something?” She stepped close, a determined look on her face.

“Can you give me a minute? It isn’t like I got a chance to prepare for this. It’s early and I wasn’t sitting around thinking a kid would show up on my door today, claiming to be mine.”

“Mr. Cooper—” Madeline Patton stepped forward, a little cautiously “—I know this is awkward but we should probably be calm.”

“Calm?” He laughed at the idea of the word. “I didn’t plan on having the postal service deliver a package to my house today. I certainly didn’t expect a special delivery that walks, talks and claims to be mine.”

It really wasn’t possible. But he could keep some random thoughts to himself. He could take a deep breath and deal with this.

“Why do you think I’m your dad?”

The girl gave him another disgusted look and then dug around in the old red backpack she pulled off her shoulder. She shoved past some clothing and a bag of makeup. Finally she pulled out a couple of papers and handed them to him.

“Yeah, so I guess you’re the clueless type,” she said.

Nice. He took the papers and looked at them. One was a birth certificate from Texas. He scanned the paper and nearly choked when he got to the father part—that would be the line where his name was listed. Her mother’s name was listed as Gloria Baker. The date, he counted back, was a little over thirteen years ago. Add nine months to that and he could almost pinpoint where he’d been.

Fourteen years ago he’d been nineteen, a little crazy and riding bulls. At that age he’d been wild enough to do just about anything. Those were his running-from-God years. That’s what his grandmother called them. His mom had cried and called him rebellious.

He handed the birth certificate back to the kid. Her name was Jade Baker. He wanted a good deep breath but it hurt like crazy to take one. He looked at the second paper, a letter addressed to him. Sweet sentiment from a mom who said Jade was his and he should take care of her now. The handwriting had the large, swirling scrawl of a teenager who still used hearts to dot the i.

The name of her mother brought back a landslide of memories, though. He looked at the kid and remembered back, remembered a face, a laugh, and then losing track of her.

“Where’s your aunt?”

“Gone back to California. She said to tell you I’m your problem now.”

“And Gloria?” Her mother. He kind of choked on the word, the name. He hadn’t really known her. Madeline Patton gave him a teacher look.

“She died. She had cancer.”

Now what? The kid stood in front of him, hazel eyes filling up with tears. He should do something, call someone, or take her home. Where was home? Did she have other family? He didn’t know anything about Gloria Baker.

He looked at Madeline, hoping she had something to say, even a little advice. The only thing she had for him looked to be a good case of loathing. Nice. He’d add her name to the list. It was a long list.

“I’m sorry.” He handed the papers back to Jade. “But kid, I’m pretty sure I’m not your dad.”

Madeline Patton had pulled the girl into her soft embrace while giving him a look that clearly told him to do something about this situation. What was he supposed to do? Did she expect him to open his door to a teenage girl, welcome her in, buy her a pony?

He had known Gloria Baker briefly years ago. He’d never laid eyes on Jade. He wasn’t anyone’s dad. He was about the furthest thing from a dad that anyone could get.

This wasn’t what he wanted. The kid standing in front of him probably wasn’t too thrilled, either.

“We’ll have to do something about this.” He realized he didn’t have a clue. What did a guy do about something like this, about a kid standing on his front porch claiming to be his?

First he had to take control. He pointed into the living room. “Go on in while I talk to Ms. Patton.”

Jade hurried past him, probably relieved to get inside where it was warm. Madeline Patton stared over his shoulder, watching the girl hurry inside, the dog following behind her. He didn’t know Madeline Patton, other than in passing, but he imagined that momentarily she’d have a few choice things to say to him.

Madeline watched Jade walk into the living room and then she turned her attention back to Jackson Cooper. He remained in the doorway, faded jeans and a button-up shirt, his hair going in all directions. Her heart seemed to be following the same path, but mostly was begging for a quick exit from this situation.

Although she didn’t really know Jackson Cooper, she thought she knew him. He was the type of man that believed every woman in the world loved him. Well, maybe this would teach him a lesson.

The thought no more than tumbled through her mind and her conscience took a dig at her. This situation shouldn’t be about a lesson learned. A child deserved more than this.

And Jackson Cooper wasn’t the worst person in the world. He’d come to her rescue last week when a bag of groceries had broken, spilling canned goods across the parking lot of the store. He’d been fishing and was suntanned and smelled of the outdoors and clean soap and was on his way home, but he’d stopped to gather up her spilled groceries, holding them in his T-shirt as he carried them to her car.