A Family for Tyler

Family sticks together, no matter what!

Wyatt Hawkins takes care of his family. So when he discovers he has a nephew, he vows to be there for Tyler until his father returns from overseas. Too bad the smart—and beautiful—judge in their custody case is interfering with Wyatt’s intention. He has to convince Judge Emily Ivers he’s good for Tyler!

But she seems to have strong feelings about a single rancher raising a child and Wyatt can’t help but wonder why. Is it the attraction between them? Or maybe it has something to do with the sadness in her eyes. Maybe his nephew’s heart isn’t the only one that needs healing….

“Ms. Ivers, I realize you have your concerns, but don’t judge me before you know me.”

Wyatt looked away briefly before turning his intense gaze to Emily. “I’ve been taking care of Tyler just fine these past weeks.”

Wyatt’s laughter was gone now, and Emily realized she’d squandered her opportunity to see the smile she’d wondered about earlier. He’d moved into her space, and she wanted desperately to move away. The cool glass of the window at her back stopped her. She looked up and realized how tall he was. And how close.

“I’m only trying—”

“To do your job? I know.” Wyatt’s voice softened. Could he actually have moved closer? “Don’t be the judge right now. Save that for the actual courtroom. You said you’d be the caseworker. Be that now and let me show you I can do this.”

Dear Reader,

Quite frequently I’m asked about where I get my ideas for stories. Most of the time I shrug and can’t quite pinpoint the exact thing that helped form the idea. This time, however, I have an answer.

Every Thursday night you’ll find me at my local bookstore, writing at my Improvisation Writers Group. We give each other prompts and then take off writing. A CHAIR AT THE HAWKINS TABLE came from one of those prompts and a discussion with my friend Helen. She shared with us of how she and her siblings had recently gone to clean out their mother’s house. They’d each returned home with one of the chairs from the dining room set because they had always gathered there, and the chairs reminded them of all those memories.

That night, the Hawkins clan was born. They’ve filled my mind, my imagination and my heart ever since. Especially Tyler, who I have to warn you, is a heart stealer.

Oddly enough, all the brothers and sisters didn’t come to me in order, or all at once. Wyatt has proven to be the most obstinate, as if he didn’t really want me to get to know him. But Emily and her protected, soft heart were just too much for him. He had to come out to find her. I think he feels it was worth it.

I hope you enjoy their story as much as I have. And thank you for taking the time to have a seat and read their story.

Hearing from readers always makes my day. If you’re so inclined, angel@angelsmits.com is the best way to do that. I look forward to hearing from you.

Happy reading!

Angel Smits

A Family for Tyler

Angel Smits

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Angel Smits lives in Colorado with her husband, daughter and brand-new puppy. (What was she thinking?) She thought winning the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award was the highlight of her writing career, until her first Harlequin book hit the shelves. Then all bets were off. Sky’s the limit now. Her background in social work helps inspire the characters in her books while improv writing gives her the means to torture those characters. It’s a rough job, but someone’s got to do it.

I’ve been blessed in my life to have grown up in a close family, and to have built one of my own with my husband, Ron. But there are two people who complete our home. Jennifer and Joseph, you are, without a doubt, the best kids I could ever ask for. Thanks for putting up with all that goes with having a writer for a mom—and for not thinking I’m too crazy. I love you both.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

WYATT HAWKINS PULLED his black 4x4 pickup into the familiar drive and killed the engine. The huge truck was well suited for the wide Texas plains of his ranch, but here in Austin, at Mom’s house with all these close-knit homes, it seemed out of place. He stayed in the cab and stared through the dirt-streaked windshield at the place he still considered home.

But without Mom, it would never be the same.

The faint sound of footsteps made him glance in the rearview mirror. His sister Addie headed up the walk. Her shoulder-length blond hair and flowing black skirt rippled in the breeze. She stopped at the truck door and rapped, unnecessarily, on the window. He rolled the glass down and peered into her tired, sad face.

“You ready for this?” he whispered, hoping she’d say no and let them all off the hook. Being Addie, she didn’t, of course.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said on a deep sigh.

She hesitated a moment, then kept walking to the front door as if she knew by stopping she might never get started again. Wyatt climbed out of the truck and silently followed.

She unlocked the front door and pushed the heavy wood open.

The door didn’t smack against the wall like it had when they’d barreled through as children. Nor did the hinges squeal to remind Dad it was time to oil them.

It simply opened to a dark, musty room. A house full of stuff but empty of people.

Just then, a red convertible parked across the street. Both Wyatt and Addie turned to watch their younger sister Mandy climb out, her long blond hair shining in the sun. Her sky-high heels tapped across the paved street as she headed toward them.

Right behind her, the bumper of Tara’s Jeep almost kissed the chrome of the convertible. The engine rattled a moment after she turned it off. There was no door on the side of the vehicle to slam. She simply swung her legs out and landed on sneaker-clad feet and trotted up the walk.

The shiny gray Lexus that pulled into the drive next would normally turn heads, but they were all used to Jason’s flash. Even his black suit looked polished to a glow.

Last, as always, DJ arrived on his monstrous motorcycle, gliding up to the curb and just barely stopping from parking on Mom’s pristine lawn. After removing his dark helmet, he cut the rough engine and silence returned to the quiet neighborhood.

They were all here.

No one spoke a word. Wyatt watched his brothers and sisters traipse in one by one. His family. Three of the six wore sunglasses, even as they entered the dim interior of the house.

Oddly enough, they passed the living room, the front hall and, in a long-honed habit, settled around the kitchen table. Six chairs. Six kids. No need to pull out the spare ones in the hall closet. They hadn’t used them that often anyway, since they’d seldom all been home at the same time.

“Looks like we’re all here.” DJ spoke first, rubbing his hand over his military buzz cut as if even after two years, he still wasn’t used to it.

“I guess we should have brought lunch.” Tara’s voice sounded too much like Mom’s. They all smiled, missing the woman they’d said a permanent goodbye to only a few hours ago.

The laughter and tears mingled. The sunglasses came off and the healing began.

“Mom loved this room.” Tara stood and went to the cupboard. The coffee, sugar and creamer were just where Mom had always kept them. She started a pot and plunked the containers on the table.

“We all did,” Wyatt agreed, walking to the silverware drawer where he pulled out five spoons. Wyatt didn’t need one. He took his coffee black.

As the coffee brewed and they fixed their cups, they talked. Voices overlapped and memories entwined. Even Jason relaxed, pulling off his jacket and rolling up his pristine shirtsleeves. Mandy’s heels fell to the floor in a mangled heap of leather. “This feels right,” she said as she rubbed her toes.

Addie smiled sadly. “Mom would have liked this—us all here together.”

Wyatt silently leaned on the counter as Addie’s words jabbed at his heart. She was right. If only they’d taken more time when Mom was alive. Sipping his coffee, he took in the view. Normally this group was a rowdy, teasing, rambunctious bunch. Today, rightfully so, they were quiet. He missed them all, missed who they were. Not just because Mom was gone, and they’d just come from the cemetery...but because they were all scattered across the country and he didn’t see them often. Who knew when, or if, they’d ever be together again.

Addie was the only one who still lived in Austin. But the wear and tear of caring for Mom as she’d battled cancer showed on Addie’s face. He set his cup down and reached out to rub her shoulders.

She’d filled her coffee cup first yet it was the fullest. Not because she’d been doing most of the talking, either. He watched her, feeling the tension in her shoulders, noting the circles beneath her eyes. She’d been Mom’s caregiver clear up until the end. He’d helped when he could, driving in every weekend to give her a break, but the ranch was a full-time operation two hours away, never mind that he hadn’t known what to do. The toll that the past few months had taken showed in the lines around Addie’s eyes.

She turned her cup around, the ceramic making a soft grinding sound against the old wood. She turned it again. And yet a third time. He knew, without being told, that she was formulating what to say. He almost held his breath waiting for her.

“Those last couple days,” she began.

Wyatt reached out, as if subconsciously thinking he could stop her. Then he had to stop himself. She needed to say this.

She took a deep breath and started again. “The social worker at the hospice called it life review,” she whispered. “Mom talked about her childhood. I learned a lot about her family. Stories I’d never heard before.” She didn’t go into those stories, but he saw everyone perk up, hoping, like him, that she would.

The silence grew and for a minute Wyatt thought maybe Addie had decided not to go on. Tara spoke up first. “What kinds of things did she talk about?”

Tara looked ready to break. The youngest, she’d always been coddled by them. While that babying hadn’t necessarily been the best for encouraging Tara to grow up, the old habits helped Addie regroup. She shook off the trance and faintly smiled at Tara.

“Lots of things. I...I started writing them down. I’ll get them together for you all. But I think there’s one story you should hear now.” Addie took a deep breath. “About a week ago, we were sitting out on that big old porch. The orderly, William, you all met him?” She looked around and they all nodded. He was a big man with a gentle touch. “He carried her out there, all wrapped up in that quilt Aunt Bess gave her. We sat out on the swing.”

Addie cleared her throat and took a deep swallow of her obviously cooled coffee. Everyone waited. “She told me about when she met Daddy.”

Wyatt smiled. He’d always thought it was strange that his sisters, well into their adult years, still referred to their father as Daddy. Now he appreciated the affection that went with the moniker.

“I’d never heard her talk about that,” Addie continued. “Did you know he used to drive a cattle truck out to her dad’s ranch? Out where you live, Wyatt. He’d come out every week, just about the time she was getting off school. He’d pick her up and drive her the rest of the way home.”

Jason chuckled, the lawyer in him coming out. “Nowadays he’d get arrested, not marry her.”

Mandy laughed and swatted Jason’s arm. “You are so not a romantic. He was what, two years older than her? He had to have been only eighteen.”

Jason had the smarts to laugh at himself. “Go on, Add, tell us the rest.”

“Seems Gramps didn’t like him much. But Daddy’s father paid the best for the stock. Daddy was actually bribing him to let him see Mom.” Addie genuinely smiled. “I had no idea they snuck off and eloped the day after she graduated.”

“No, they didn’t,” Mandy protested. “What about all those wedding pictures?” The book was still upstairs, Wyatt knew. Addie was taking it with her. He’d helped her find it and wrap it up just this morning.

“They had the formal wedding the next summer, once Gramps cooled off.”

“Wow.” DJ got up to refill his cup. Shaking his head, he turned his back on them, looking out the kitchen window over the yard. “There’s so much we’ll never know about her.” His sadness filled the room.

“Maybe.” Addie turned in her chair and met Wyatt’s gaze. He nodded and moved closer to their youngest brother. The man was a soldier to the rest of the world, but here, he was the little boy they’d all patched up a million times.

“We all have our secrets, Deej. It’s not a bad thing,” Addie said.

DJ met Wyatt’s gaze. The soldier was back and Wyatt immediately missed the boy. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Addie stood, too, dumping her cold coffee down the drain. “Mom had a wonderful life, and she gave us all an amazing home.”

Addie took her gaze from him and looked over her shoulder at the others. Finally, Addie’s composure fled. Her shoulders drooped and Wyatt did as he always did; he tried to fix things by pulling her into a reassuring hug.

“I only hope I can be as good of a mom if I have kids someday,” she said.

Silence, punctuated by only a few soft sniffles, filled the room. Finally, Addie moved away and Wyatt felt cast adrift. He vaguely wondered who’d been comforting whom. As he settled back in his seat, Addie reached into her purse and took out several folded sheets of paper. She slowly handed them out.

“Mom divided everything. Here are your lists. All we have to decide on is this.” She ran a loving hand along the edge of the huge, old table.

They each looked down at the chair they were sitting in. Not a single eye was dry. Wyatt found himself caressing the chair’s arms, just as their father used to do so long ago. Mandy turned and ran a finger over the curved wooden back.

“Can... Do we have to... I mean...” Tara hiccuped and her words faded. Silence reigned for an entire moment. Then pandemonium broke loose.

“I want it.”

“Me, too. But I don’t have room right now.”

“I can’t imagine being without it.”

Wyatt listened as their voices mingled and no one seemed to fully hear what the others said. Finally, he stood, an idea forming. He whistled to get their attention. “I know what we can do.”

“What?” Addie looked at him, hope and a bit of panic in her eyes.

“None of us needs this whole set or this huge table. Let’s each take our chair. I know it sounds silly, but it’s the one thing that will always remind us of Mom and Dad.”

Again, silence. Then they looked around and everyone nodded. “What about the table?” Addie asked.

“Let’s leave it with the house. It’s too monstrous to move, anyway.” The real estate agent was scheduled to come tomorrow and put it on the market. Maybe a new family would love it, as well.

Again, they all agreed—an unusual occurrence. After they’d taken their lists and made plans to move their things out of the house, the chairs were lined up in the front hall. No one wanted to leave them behind today.

Wyatt and Jason helped DJ find bungee cords in the garage to strap his chair on the big bike. Then they worked to fit Jason’s in the backseat of the Lexus.

Mandy looked odd driving away in the red convertible with the four legs of her chair sticking up in the air, but no less strange than Tara’s Jeep with her chair strapped in the back with the remaining bungee cords.

Addie had walked over, her house being only a few blocks away. Wyatt put her chair in the truck’s bed with his and gave her a ride home.

She climbed into the big truck, not bothering to look back. Wyatt glanced in the rearview mirror and then quickly away. “Goodbyes suck.” He reached out and squeezed her hand.

“The decision about the chairs was good. Thank you,” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

They drove in silence until they reached her equally small drive. She didn’t open the door right away, then just as she curled her fingers around the handle, she looked over at him. The sorrow in her eyes nearly broke his heart.

But for the first time since he’d learned he had a baby sister and took on the unspoken responsibility for her, there was nothing he could do to fix her hurt.

* * *

THREE MONTHS LATER, to the day, Wyatt sat in his truck again and stared at another empty house. This one was clapboard with narrow windows. On the front porch that ran downhill, a small boy sat on the uneven steps.

The boy looked as if he’d lost his best friend. Which—if he was who Wyatt thought he was—he probably had. The world the boy had always known was about to change, irreversibly. Forever. Wyatt swallowed the lump in his throat, dreading the role he had to play in this mess.

The boy rested his chin in the palm of his hand and smacked a stick against the sidewalk in an uneven beat. Wyatt reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the letter he’d received nearly a week ago. The paper looked small and white against his suntanned hand, but what snagged his attention was the picture. Damn, the kid looked so much like DJ had at that age. It was spooky. He refolded the letter and slipped it back into his pocket.

He stared at the boy as his thoughts spun. How had this happened? How could DJ have had a child he’d never known about? And why the hell had the woman decided now to contact him? No answers came to Wyatt, which frustrated him even further.

It wasn’t the boy’s fault who his parents were, or how they’d behaved. But Wyatt knew he’d probably be the one to pay the heaviest price.

The hot Texas sun beat down on Wyatt’s shoulders as he climbed out of the truck. A warm wind slipped past, seemingly unnoticed by the glum boy.

The kid did, however, look up as Wyatt crossed the broken walk. The old metal gate creaked when he pushed it open. The boy’s eyes narrowed with distrust. “Who are you?” His words sounded more like an accusation than a question.

Wyatt stopped. “I’m your uncle, Wyatt Hawkins. You’re Tyler?” Silence. For a second Wyatt wasn’t sure if he’d get an answer.

“Tyler Easton, yes, sir,” the boy whispered, and continued smacking his stick on the sidewalk.

“Is your mother around?” The woman he’d talked to on the phone yesterday had assured him she’d be here. She had a lot to answer for.

The boy looked up again, and Wyatt swallowed the sucker punch that hit him. No child’s eyes should hold that much hurt.

“She left.”

“Left? When?”

“S’morning. Said someone from my dad’s family was comin’ and I was s’posed to go with ’em. Is that you?”

Wyatt didn’t know how to answer. He pulled the paper out of his shirt pocket and unfolded it. “I suppose I am.”

“I was ’fraid so.” The boy looked back at the ground, slowly drawing circles with the stick.

Wyatt read the letter again. How did you tell a child that his mother didn’t want him anymore? That she’d waited until his dad, a man he’d never met, shipped overseas? A man who couldn’t speak for himself from a thousand miles away.

Men didn’t deny their flesh and blood. Wyatt and DJ might have their differences, but at the core, he knew DJ took his responsibilities seriously. His brother would claim the boy, but until he could, Wyatt was all he had.

“You ready to go?” He didn’t think twice about his role in this boy’s life. Responsibility had always been something Wyatt easily shouldered, and he didn’t hesitate now.

He’d already gotten Jason’s legal advice, and his brother was working to contact DJ. Just looking at the kid, there was little doubt Tyler was DJ’s son. And Addie would be thrilled to have someone to take care of once Wyatt told her about him. But right now his sister needed the vacation he’d finally convinced her to take.

“I packed my stuff.” Tyler used the stick to point at two plastic grocery bags beside the door.

“That’s all of it?”

“Yep. Mama took the rest. She told me to be ready and not tick you off.”

“Is that so?” Wyatt’s chest hurt, for himself, for the boy and mostly for the man who didn’t even know he had a son. DJ was in for one heck of a surprise when, and if, he ever got back home.

Slowly, Wyatt stepped toward Tyler and sat on the step beside him. He figured he could take a few minutes to start to get to know his nephew, an apparently angry little boy of eight years old, who’d been totally unknown to him—to anyone in the family—until last week. If only Mom had gotten to meet him. She’d have loved Tyler, but would have killed DJ. Wyatt smiled and refocused on the boy.

Where did he start the conversation? But before he could say anything, Tyler jumped up. “Guess we’d better get goin’.” He grabbed a grocery bag in each hand and returned to stand next to Wyatt.

Wyatt stood. “Guess so. Need any help with those?”

“Nope.” The boy marched down the steps and was halfway across the bare yard before Wyatt moved. The wind had died down and the only sign of life in the battered neighborhood was a flutter of curtains in the house across the street.

Wyatt hurried to catch up and open the gate for Tyler. The sooner they got out of here and left this mess behind, the better. He helped settle the bags on the truck’s floorboards and buckled Tyler in before either of them said another word.

“Ready?” Wyatt met the boy’s stare.

“Yep.” Tyler looked straight ahead, not even glancing toward the old house as they pulled away from the curb. Wyatt glanced in the rearview mirror and thought perhaps Tyler was wiser than his years. It wasn’t much to look back on. With nowhere else to go, and not much else to say, they headed through Austin and on west to the ranch where Wyatt lived...and where Tyler would be living, too.

The hot Texas wind followed them, reaching in the window and ruffling the boy’s blond hair just as Wyatt used to ruffle DJ’s hair. DJ had always hated anyone touching his hair. Now he was in some godforsaken corner of the world with all his blond hair long gone to the barber’s razor.

Wyatt leaned back and returned his gaze to the two-lane blacktop.

What in the world were they going to do now?

CHAPTER TWO

EMILY JANE IVERS liked—no, demanded—predictability in her world. Unfortunately, few people or events lived up to her expectations.

Just like every other morning, she headed to her office. She checked with the clerk, scanned the docket and arranged her day’s schedule. She loved the consistency of her calendar. It shook up her whole day if there were cross outs or Wite-Out on it.

Today, she could only stare at the normally orderly page on her desk. The bright yellow sticky notes were not expected and she felt herself tense at the events spelled out on them.

“I don’t do juvenile cases.” She ripped one sticky from the page and headed to Dianne’s desk. “I don’t do juvenile cases,” she repeated to her clerk’s face.