Falling for the Single Dad (5 page)

Weston turned to the range to flip the fritters. “We don't have anything in common.”

“You have me. You'd both have me.”

He winced. If only that had been enough before. He'd never willingly put himself or his daughter through that kind of pain again.
Help me, God. What do I say to her?

“Don't you want me to have a mommy again, Daddy?”

He closed his eyes and leaned against the sink.

“Don't you want to have a wife to love us again?”

What he'd not understood was how lonely his daughter was for a mother. He'd hoped and prayed he would be enough. His gut clenched. Yet again, he wasn't enough for anyone. How could he explain he was trying to save Izzie from further pain?

He swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. “I think a mommy and a wife would be a good thing, baby. Someday. But not Dr. Duer.”

Izzie narrowed her eyes. “Who, then? And someday starts tomorrow, Daddy.”

This daughter of his was way too smart to be nine. Way too smart to be his.

Had the time come for him to rouse himself from his comfortable cocoon and return to the dating world? He glanced at his daughter. If for nothing else, then for Izzie's sake. She deserved a mother's love.

Weston flopped the dish towel over Izzie's head. “Right you are. First thing after breakfast tomorrow, we'll head over to VIMS to check on Turtle Mama. And I'll see what I can do about getting a date.”

“It'd be fun to go with someone to the Wachapreague Fireman's Carnival in a few weeks.” Izzie dragged the towel off her head. Her hair—Caroline Duer was right about that at least—was a mess. “But not a date with Caroline?”

He shook his head. “Not with Caroline. We could never be more than friends, Monkey Girl.”

And friends was stretching it. There were hidden depths to the aquatic vet. Jagged reefs submerged beneath her surface waiting to shipwreck the unwary. Caroline Duer wasn't safe. To neither his daughter's heart nor his.

“Daddy!” she yelled. “The fritters are on fire!”

Too late, he shut off the temperature gauge. He clanged a lid onto the frying pan and smothered the flames.

A silence filled the air. As did the acrid fumes of burned seafood. Izzie's stomach rumbled. He appreciated her not making a big deal out of his latest parenting fiasco.

She took the keys off the nail beside the door. “Fried chicken from the Exmore Diner, Daddy?”

He appreciated her not saying “again.” No two ways about it. His Izzie was a trouper.

Weston took the dangling keys from her hand. “Sorry about this, Izz.”

“No worries, Daddy.” She smiled. “I like restaurant food.”

Chapter Five

D
inner at the Lodge with the family was a fiasco, and not because the food had burned. Which it didn't, thanks to the combined efforts of Amelia's and Honey's husbands.

Her father didn't have much to say. Not to anyone, much less to Caroline. He shoveled the food into his mouth, murmured his thanks and barreled out of the house toward the dock claiming he needed to check the boat.

She jolted as the screen door off the kitchen slammed shut against the frame. Placing her napkin beside her plate, she half rose. “This was a mistake. I should go.”

“No...”

“Please stay...”

At the simultaneous protest of her sisters, Caroline dropped back into the chair. The floorboards creaked overhead as the inn's lone guest settled in for the evening.

Braeden and Sawyer exchanged a look.

“Actually.” Braeden, the dark-haired senior chief at Station Kiptohanock, wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Dinner went better than I expected. It's important to stay the course.”

“I agree.” Sawyer scraped his chair across the pine floor and stood. “The Duer sisters aren't the only stubborn members of this family.” He reached for a serving platter to clear the table. “Apples don't fall far from trees for a reason.”

Braeden laughed. “Ain't that the truth? Birds of a feather.”

Honey cut her eyes at Amelia. “I think we've been insulted.”

Amelia sniffed, but Caroline noted the sparkle in her eyes when she locked gazes with her husband. “I
know
we've been insulted.”

Caroline's heart pinged. No one would ever look at her that way. She hugged her arms around herself. Which was only right, considering her past.

Max lined the peas on his plate in a row of military precision. “What does that stuff mean? Birds and apples?”

Braeden ruffled his son's carrot-top curls. “It means that people with similar character and interests tend to hang out together.” He moved to help Sawyer clear the table.

Max crouched in his chair, his gaze at eye level with the edge of the plate. “No duh, Dad. 'Cause family sticks together. Is an idiom the same as an idiot?”

“In my case, Max...” Caroline handed Sawyer the empty bread basket. “It probably should be.”

She held back a sigh and watched her married sisters perform what must be for them a well-oiled ritual. She regretted the time she'd missed with her family. She fought a stab of envy at the fine men each of her sisters had married.

Amelia collected the hot pads. “An idiom is an expression that says one thing but often means something different.”

She frowned at her son. “Quit playing with your food, Max. Here's another idiom for you. It's time to either fish or cut bait.”

Max turned his fork right side up and balanced the end over the rim of the plate. “What else is an idiom?”

Braeden flicked his eyes at Amelia. “How aboot stubborn as a mule?” The Alaska native flavored “about” with the typical
hoi toide
—high tide—lilt of Eastern Shore natives.

Amelia's lips curved. “How
about
it takes one to know one?”

Honey placed her hand over her stomach. “Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Sawyer grinned. “It takes two to tango.”

Blushing, Honey swatted at him. He laughed and zigzagged out of reach.

Caroline disposed of the crumpled napkins in the kitchen waste bin. “Or from Dad's point of view, he'll be glad to see the back of me.”

“Sounds like crazy talk to me,” Max muttered.

Honey shot Caroline a triumphant look. “Exactly. Besides, you can't leave.” She smoothed the maternity top over the basketball-size bulge of her belly. “The church ladies are giving me an early baby shower in June before tourist season begins, and I want you to be there.”

“Oh, Honey. I didn't realize... Of course I'll be there.” Caroline put her hand to her throat. “I'd love to be there.”

Honey's face radiated a joy Caroline couldn't begin to fathom. “It's going to be the best summer ever with you home. All of us together again.”

Not all of us,
Caroline reflected. She'd deliberately avoided lingering in the living room, where the family portrait hung over the mantel. A photo taken on a long-ago summer day when Mom and Lindi were still alive. When Caroline had still been part of the family. Before the darkness had taken root and nearly destroyed her life.

Don't put your faith in me
, she wanted to shout as Honey headed toward the kitchen.
I'll let you down. No matter how hard I try, I always do.

But she said none of those things. Instead, Caroline lifted the floral arrangement from the walnut sideboard and positioned it in the center of the table. Wildflowers. Queen Anne's lace. And those ubiquitous brown-eyed ditch daisies she'd noted Honey was so fond of.

“Thank you for agreeing to attend the shower.” Sawyer edged alongside Caroline, his voice low. “It means everything to her.”

Caroline bit her lip.
Please, please don't make me the object of her happiness. I can't be responsible for anyone's happiness. Not even my own.

“One week, Sawyer.” She held up her finger. “I'll give it one week, but if things aren't better between Dad and me, I'll spend the rest of the pilot program at the motel.” She swallowed. “The tension wouldn't be good for Honey or the baby.”

He nodded. “It's going to be okay. This reunion has been a long time in the making. And wrought by more prayer than you could possibly realize. I know for a fact Honey has prayed for your safe return every day since you left fifteen years ago.”

Caroline's mouth trembled.

Max positioned a lone pea on the prongs of the fork. “Watch this, Aunt Caroline.” He winked at her with a piratical gleam in his eye. His finger hovered over the end of his fork.

Amelia sauntered into the dining room. “Don't you even think about launching that pea like a cannonball.”

He slumped in the chair. “A guy can't have any fun.”

Braeden poked his head around the doorframe. “Why, I've got more fun waiting for you than you can possibly imagine, son. Helping me wash and dry the dishes.”

Max groaned. And Patrick wailed from his playpen in the corner.

Amelia's head fell back. “This teething business is going to be the death of me.”

“Patrick wants to help us, Dad,” Max bellowed.

The baby placed his chubby fist in his mouth and continued to cry. Without conscious thought, Caroline found herself at the playpen as Patrick's arms reached for her.

She lifted him out, and Patrick laid his head against her shoulder. He sucked at his tiny fingers. She stroked the crown of his silky brown hair and hummed a tune her mother had sung when Honey was little.

At the sudden silence, Caroline pivoted with the baby in her arms. “Oh...” She blinked. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...”

She tried prying the baby off her chest, but he clung like a limpet to stone. “Here. He's your baby. You'd know best how to soothe him.” Patrick grunted and hung on to her blue scrubs.

“You're doing fine without me.” Amelia smiled. “I could use a break. And it looks like you've got the touch.”

Her eyes widened. “What touch? You mean 'cause I'm a doctor? I'm an animal doctor, not a baby doctor.”

“Mom's touch.” Amelia's eyes welled. “You look so much like Mom standing there rocking him...” She took a breath. “You sound like Mom, too. It's like having her here again.”

Caroline dropped her face into Patrick's soft curls. She inhaled the scent of his baby shampoo. Her heart pounded. She held her breath and waited for the encroaching shaft of darkness, but nothing came.

Perhaps she'd had it wrong. Perhaps the therapist had been correct. Remembering was healing. It was the denial which wasn't. Yet judging from her father's reaction to her presence, perhaps he, too, found the memories painful.

Something they had in common after all.

Caroline rested her hand on Max's tousled hair. “After you finish in the kitchen, maybe you and I could go out on the porch. I know a thing or two about science. We could build the catapult to beat all catapults if you'd like.”

Max grinned. “Cool.” He pivoted toward Amelia. “Can I, Mimi? Before bedtime?”

Amelia nodded. “For a little while, but it's a church day tomorrow. Bright and early.” She faced Caroline. “I hope you'll join the family there.”

Braeden held out his hand for Max. They departed to assist Honey and Sawyer prepping for tomorrow's guest breakfast.

Caroline hugged the baby. She'd hoped to avoid the Kiptohanock church. Last time she'd been there had been for her mother's funeral.

“I wanted to also apologize for not being there when Lindi d-died.” Caroline steadied her wobbling tone. “I was the next oldest. It should've been me who took care of Max and Dad and Honey. Not you. You gave up art school for them.”

Caroline tensed, expecting to find condemnation in Amelia's eyes. But only compassion rippled across her sister's features. Amelia feathered a stray curl behind her baby's tiny ear.

Patrick smiled at his mom, but lay content in Caroline's arms.

“Max is my son as surely as Patrick. God has a way of working things out.” A smile played across Amelia's lips. “Sometimes in the giving up of what we think we need, along the way we discover what we want the most.”

Caroline stared at her sister. “I love you, Amelia. And no matter however long Dad tolerates my presence, thank you for letting me come home.”

“Looking back, you and Dad are so much alike. Including the way you suffer so quietly.” She cupped her hand over Caroline's cheek. “We probably should've said or done something, tried harder...”

Caroline passed the sleeping baby to Amelia. “Not much anyone can do. We've each got to struggle through the tunnel of grief the best we can.”

Struggle through till you reached the light at the end. Caroline wondered if that was what she was really doing, returning to Kiptohanock. And she also wondered if she'd ever manage to reach the light at all.

Amelia nestled her baby son in her arms. “Don't you give up.” Her eyes flashed. “You hear me? Don't quit on us. And you'll make it. I know you're going to make it.”

Caroline's heart skipped a beat. Somehow Amelia knew or suspected...

“So you'll come to church tomorrow?”

Might that be another step toward reaching the light?

She released a breath. “I'll try.”

“That's as much as any of us can do. Just try.”

* * *

“... baby shower next month...”

Facing Reverend Parks at the podium, Weston heard the faint scrape of the hinges on the vestibule door. Beside him in the pew, Izzie started to turn, but he captured her shoulder with his hand and anchored her firmly in place.

“Eyes forward, Seaman,” he whispered in her ear.

She made a face but focused on the stained glass depiction of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane on the wall behind Reverend Parks and the baptistry. A focus that only lasted till the reverend's next remark.

“... know you church ladies will want to help celebrate this most momentous of occasions in Honey and Sawyer Kole's lives...”

Izzie tugged on his shirttail. “I'm a church lady.”

He frowned and put a finger to his lips.

A welcome breeze from the unseasonably sultry early June morning wafted into the sanctuary, courtesy of the open door. Many of the older Shore buildings didn't have air-conditioning.

He inserted a finger between the collar of his polo shirt and his neck and tugged. Not a mistake he intended to make with the lighthouse renovation, ocean winds notwithstanding.

A lock of Izzie's hair fluttered. Turning, Izzie's face lit as if an internal light had switched on.

“Hey, Caroline.” Izzie waved in a frenzy of motion. “Caroline's here, Daddy.”

Across the sanctuary, blond, brunette, red and gray heads swiveled toward the foyer, where Caroline Duer stood frozen like a squid caught in bright lights. Then, like a boom on a sailboat, the townsfolk's gaze swung as one toward Weston and his daughter.

Izzie clambered onto the pew. Her knees pressed against the curve of the bench. “Sit with us, Caroline.”

He took hold of his daughter. “Izzie,” he hissed.

“It's Caro—”

“Get down...” He peeled her off the pew.

Reverend Parks cleared his throat. “Great idea, Isabelle. Let's take a moment to greet each other on the Lord's day before we sing our first hymn.”

He stepped off the platform and was the first to reach Caroline. Who was still paralyzed—apparently struck mute—in the middle of the aisle.

Weston grimaced, absorbing her embarrassment. If she'd hoped to slip in unnoticed, so much for that. Thanks to Isabelle Alice Clark.

As the congregation mixed and mingled amid the rousing piano rendition of “There's a Sweet, Sweet Spirit,” Seth Duer remained immobile. His gnarled knuckles slowly turned white from clutching the pew in front of him.

Weston glanced over his shoulder. His pulse ratcheted as two rosy spots of color bloomed in the aquatic vet's cheeks. Caroline Duer needed a rescue. His throat constricted.

Izzie tugged on his shirttail. “Daddy, let's go say hi.”

Before he could act, Max darted into the aisle and latched on to his aunt's hand. When he pulled her into the family pew, Seth Duer went ramrod stiff. Caroline lifted her chin and stared straight ahead.

The veterinarian appeared in that moment to Weston to resemble old paintings he'd seen of saints before the lions. And he found himself admiring her guts. She must have known coming home—coming here today—wouldn't be easy.

Owning the consequences of your actions never was. That he knew something about. His own hypocrisy smote Weston. He was ashamed of how he'd condemned Caroline yesterday at the lighthouse. He'd acted as judge and jury without knowing both sides of the story. And after what had happened with Izzie's mother, he was the least qualified person on the planet to be handing out judgment on anyone.