For His Daughter

“No.”

“Samuel…”

He knew that tone. He cocked his head at her, settling for a portion of the truth. “He’s not going to stay, Rosie.”

She didn’t need to ask who he meant. She simply shrugged. “He’s a grown man. He shouldn’t have to stay if he decides he doesn’t want to. But if he does, then we’ll make a place for him here.”

“It won’t be easy. The two of us…we don’t communicate.”

“That’s because you are both hardheaded and proud. Too much alike.” He heard the smile in her voice. She brought her hand to his chest, rubbing across his heart gently. “But you know something inside you is hungry for reconciliation.”

“Perhaps. But on my terms.”

“What terms?”

“I don’t know the real reason he’s come home, but I will not have this family put in harm’s way. Not twelve years ago. Not now.”

Rosa made a disgusted sound in her throat. “I should have tried harder to make you see reason back then. Rafe would never do that.”

“Have you completely forgotten what a rebellious child he was?”

“Children grow up.”

“And men grow hard.”

She angled her head so that she could catch his eyes. “Sam, I know my children. And in your heart, you do as well. Rafe never did drugs. He would never have brought them into this house. Even that night, the doctors told you there were no drugs in his system.”

“Maybe not at that particular moment. But you weren’t there, Rosa,” Sam said stubbornly, remembering the terrifying spectacle he had witnessed. “You didn’t see what I saw. It was a miracle that he wasn’t killed.”

“You should have brought him home.”

He had no reply for that. Since there had been no charges against Rafe, bringing his son home was precisely what Sam had wanted that night, to bring his boy back to the safety and security of the lodge. Instead, he knew he had driven Rafe even farther away.

He couldn’t bear to think of all the mistakes he’d made that night, so he said, “Rafe made the decision to walk away from this family. No one else.”

“But he’s back now. We have been given a second chance.” Rosa squeezed his arm. “This is not a bridge to burn, Samuel. It is a bridge to cross.”

“You’re wasting your time. We might as well be strangers to him.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe what you want. I’m afraid—” He broke off, unsure how to express himself.

His wife slipped off the arm of the chair and knelt beside him. She cupped his hands in hers. “What are you afraid of? That he will stay with us? Or that he won’t?”

“We should go back to bed,” he said roughly. “Today will be busy with the holiday coming.”

She ignored him, instead placing soft kisses along the knobby ridges of his knuckles. When she looked up at him, the sweetest smile was on her lips. “She looks like you, you know?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, though he knew perfectly well who she referred to.

“Of course you do.”

“I find it irritating that you continue to be a woman who enjoys little mysteries.”

“There’s no mystery, really. Francesca looks like you. I’ve seen you looking at her. You have noticed the resemblance.”

“I’m naturally curious about any child Rafe claims is his.”

“And yet you take pains to stay away from her. Why is that?”

“The wheelchair frightens her.”

She sighed. “Samuel…”

Annoyed, he lifted his hands out of hers, spreading them in disgust. “Am I not allowed to take my own time? She may be my blood, but that doesn’t mean we’re automatically simpatico, you know?”

“She has your fondness for polka dots.” Her hands plucked at the smooth pattern of his pajama sleeve. One of his favorites—white spots on a royal blue background. “I find that shared quirk rather strange.”

“Liking polka dots is not a quirk. And it means nothing.”

“She’s just a little girl, Sam. No doubt she’s frightened by all the sudden changes in her life. I’ve told Rafe I want her to spend as much time as possible with us. She needs family. More than Rafe, she needs our love and understanding.”

“Give me time.”

“Your heart understands what your head cannot yet conceive. Trust those feelings.”

Sam shook his head. Rosa was too generous, too willing to forget. “He won’t stay,” he said again, more forcefully this time. “We’ll open up our home and our hearts and they’ll both be gone by Christmastime. Mark my words.”

Her poise could not be shaken by the pessimism of his tone. She simply nodded, as if accepting that possibility. “I have decided that this is a chance worth taking. Meeting your son halfway is no more frightening in the long run than living a life without him.”

CHAPTER FOUR

RAFE WAS GLAD TO HAVE EASTER behind him. He wasn’t comfortable with family holidays, with their lollipop colors and enforced gaiety. There were too many opportunities for mis-takes.

But Mom’s cooking was excellent as usual and the family seemed relaxed and pleased by the lodge guests’ eager participation in the planned festivities. Watching the kids collect Easter eggs on the lawn hadn’t been too bad, though he’d bet half of them would be sick by dinnertime from eating too many sweets.

His daughter had been on her best behavior. Nick and his wife, Kari, had brought their new son, Ethan, to the festivities, and Frannie always seemed enchanted by the sight of the baby. When she was allowed to hold him, she lit up momentarily and then settled into the responsibility with the most serious look on her face that Rafe had ever seen.

Whatever her reason for good conduct, that, and the fact that Rafe and his father had managed to pass a fairly civil holiday, made him breathe a huge sigh of relief.

The control he exercised around his father could easily fail him. He’d say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing. And then where would they be? Rafe was trying desperately not to fight in front of Frannie. Hell, when it came to getting along with Pop, he was desperate, period.

On Monday, he drove down the mountain, dropped Frannie back into her kindergarten class, made final arrangements for his daughter to be babysat on occasion by one of the teachers there and then headed downtown. Before going to the newspaper office, he wanted to make a stop at the makeshift construction office he’d put together at the Three Bs. Now that the holiday was over, renovations on the buildings would kick into high gear once again.

He parked on the street and was pleased to see that there were already several trucks and vans there, the workers getting an early start. Standing on the sidewalk, he couldn’t help once more admiring the workmanship that had gone into the place.

The inspectors he’d hired to give it the once-over had told him the Three Bs was structurally sound. It would take a good bit of money to make it comfortable and functional, but right now, thanks to years of saving and the money Wendall Crews had left him, money wasn’t tight.