“Jesus,” he whispered. He stuck a big finger against the baby’s tiny palm, and the child grasped at it lightly. “I never saw anything this little in my life,” he said a little louder.
“Let me…see,” Miranda spoke up, her voice a little stronger.
Jake held the child up slightly so she could look at him. Miranda smiled. “Jake, he’s…so beautiful!”
The boy made little gurgling sounds, and Jake quickly wiped at his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “I can’t do this, Randy. He deserves better than me.”
She managed to move her hand to touch his arm. “He’s got…the best father any child…could want. You’ll…try harder than most, Jake. It’s going to be…so good for us now. We’ll go…to California…as soon as the baby is a month old…and we can get through…the mountains. We’ll have a good…life there, Jake. You’ll see. Now…let me have…my baby.”
Jake carefully laid the infant beside his mother, and the child started to squall. Jake felt a chill at the memory of how his father used to toss his little brother around when he was hardly any bigger than this, roaring at the child to stop crying.
“He’s hungry. Help me…roll onto my…side, Jake.”
“Are you strong enough?”
“I…don’t know, but…he’s hungry…no choice.”
He leaned over and propped some pillows behind her. He opened her gown and positioned the baby so that the infant could reach a full breast. As soon as he found his mark, the child stopped crying and sucked away contentedly. Jake watched, never believing he’d see such a lovely, intimate moment, let alone know the mother and baby belonged to him. That promise Randy had made not to reveal his past to this child meant more to him than ever now.
“I want…to name him Lloyd,” Miranda spoke up. “Your name…is Jackson Lloyd. His will be…Lloyd Jackson…Lloyd Jackson Harkner.”
A rush of regrets over a past he could never erase whipped through Jake with near pain. “Turner,” he corrected her. “Lloyd Jackson Turner.” That was the only name his son would ever hear. “Don’t ever mention the name Harkner in front of him.”
Miranda looked at him in a way that told him she still thought he was wrong. “If that’s how you want it.”
“That’s how I want it.”
She smiled a little. “You love him…already…don’t you?”
Jake touched her hair, leaning down and kissing the baby’s soft cheek, then kissing her breast. “I love you both. You’ve got to help me on this, Randy. You’ve got to live and get stronger.”
“I’ll be fine…now that I’ve seen…how you look…at your son.” She touched his hand. “Jake…my Jake. You’ll be a good father. You’ll see.”
She closed her eyes and seemed to drift off. The baby kept nursing, and Jake watched, wondering if a man could experience anything more wonderful than this. But then he wasn’t just any man, and he didn’t deserve to have this happening to him. He rose and went to a chest of drawers, opening one and taking out his mother’s rosary, which he kept under his shirts. He had never felt much need for it until now. He grasped it tightly and closed his eyes. “God help me,” he muttered. He didn’t know what else to say, how else to put it. He just squeezed the jeweled cross and hoped that by some miracle there was a God who did listen to men like him.
***
Mellie sauntered up to the tall, sandy-haired man at the bar who was throwing money around as though its source was endless. She thought how he could be considered good looking, if not for the chilling meanness in his icy blue eyes, and the fact that he needed a shave and a haircut; but, then, most men in this town needed that. She had gotten used to the smell of whiskey and perspiration, had a lot of money in the bank from putting up with those very things. Someday she intended to start a business of her own, maybe a restaurant or something, anything to get away from this miserable life. In the meantime, she would do what she did best. There were plenty of other men she could approach tonight, but she had heard this one asking about Jake Turner, and that got her curiosity going. She rubbed a hand over his bottom, and he turned to look at her, grinning, a stub of a cigar between his teeth. “Well, hello there, honey.”
Mellie smiled. “Can I do something for you tonight?”
He set down his glass of whiskey and his eyes fell to her exposed bosom. “I expect so. You cost much?”
She looked past him at a dangerous-looking, scarred Mexican who stared at her in a way that made her shiver. That one she would definitely not do business with. “Five dollars,” she told the first man. “But first you have to tell me your name and why you’re looking for Jake Turner.”