Falling for the Single Dad (6 page)

Weston's heart thumped with the longing to make things better for the veterinarian. To help her make things right with her family and the community. It seemed to him he'd never met a braver person. Not on a storm-tossed cutter. Nor a beleaguered sailor in the face of certain death. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Eyes narrowed, Reverend Parks called the assembly to order. Lips compressed, with great deliberation, he closed the flap of his e-tablet on which he kept his sermon outline. “Please take your seats.”

Reverend Parks gripped the sides of the podium with both hands. “I've decided to change my sermon this morning to a passage dear to my heart.”

Across the aisle, Weston couldn't keep his gaze from straying toward Caroline.

“Open your Bibles to the Gospel of Luke, chapter 15.”

The reverend paused at the sound of flipping pages. Weston helped Izzie locate the Scripture in her petal-pink kids' Bible.

Reverend Parks waited until every eye met his. “Today...” His gaze roamed across the congregation before resting on Seth Duer in the third row. “I want to talk to you about prodigals.”

Weston felt rather than saw Caroline flinch. Her chest rose and fell with the difficulty of taking a steady breath. His heartbeat accelerated.

Did the reverend intend to publicly humiliate Caroline Duer? He and Izzie hadn't been here that long. Not yet a year. Weston glanced around at the assembled congregation. The atmosphere was thick with tension. So silent you could have heard the fluttering of a butterfly's wings. His stomach muscles knotted.

He sensed that beneath the brittle exterior Caroline donned, there was an inner fragility. Which made her courage more remarkable. What did the reverend intend to say? Would his words destroy any chance the vet had for winning support for the marine animal rehab? Worse yet, would the next few minutes destroy Caroline herself?

Weston gritted his teeth. He unconsciously curled his hands into fists. He wouldn't allow them—Reverend Parks included—to bully the turtle lady. Not on his watch.

“‘And while the son was yet a long way off,'” Reverend Parks read the Scripture, “‘the father saw him and felt compassion for him. Ran and embraced him and kissed him.'”

Weston found himself holding his breath, praying for this unknown woman with whom his daughter had formed such an inexplicable bond. A bond he shared?

“And so we must celebrate.” Reverend Parks leaned into the podium. “The child who was dead has now begun to live. A child who was lost but later found.” Tears swam in his Delmarva-blue eyes. “A child who is very much like every one of us,” he whispered.

What followed was a lesson in grace so tender and so profound those who were privileged to hear Reverend Parks that day would later declare it to be the finest exposition of the gospel they'd ever heard. Made more powerful by the usually soft-spoken man of God who spoke with such fire and passion.

At the last hymn, no eyes were dry. Reverend Parks made his way to his usual spot at the door to greet his flock. But as the last note died away and ascended into the wooden rafters of the old church, Caroline launched out of the pew like one of the rockets at Wallops Island. She lurched toward the vestibule, a stricken look on her face.

Izzie charged into the aisle before Weston could stop her. The reverend halted Caroline at the exit with a quiet word. By the time Weston caught up to them, Caroline had regained control of her breathing.

Reverend Parks took hold of her hand, “... my office... Tuesday morning...?”

Her eyes were hooded, but she nodded. Reverend Parks released Caroline's hand, and she hurried down the church steps to the lawn toward her car.

“I didn't get to talk to her, Daddy.” Izzie's mouth quivered. “Not this morning at the rescue center, either.”

He gnawed the inside of his cheek. Lost child returned to the Kiptohanock fold or not, he couldn't allow this woman to wound his child. Was avoidance the answer to wean Izzie from her attachment to the vet? Or would more intentional encounters disabuse Izzie of her affection for the complicated black sheep Duer?

Izzie pressed her cheek into the fabric of his shirt. His daughter was only now beginning to trust him with the things that mattered to her. And this woman mattered to Izzie.

“Come on.” He captured Izzie's hand. “Dr. Duer?”

The lady vet rummaged in her purse for her key.

He hurried Izzie across the lawn. “Dr. Duer?”

The vet clicked a button on the key chain and reached for the door handle.

Weston towed Izzie into the parking lot. “Please wait... Caroline...”

Her head snapped up.

“You didn't say hello.” Izzie flung herself at Caroline. “Why did you run away?”

Falling against the car, Caroline wrapped her arms around his daughter. “I needed some air. I...” She glanced at him, her face conflicted. “I'm sorry.”

He wondered why she believed she had to apologize. After his cold condemnation of her yesterday at the lighthouse, he should be the one apologizing to Caroline Duer.

Weston's eyes were drawn to the pulse beating a furious tempo in the hollow of her throat above the neckline of her sleeveless sundress. “Are you okay?”

“I'll be fine.” She looked away over the headstones on the adjacent hillside. “Eventually, I think...” She bit her lip. “Maybe...”

She laid her hand on Izzie's head. “Good morning, Ladybug. What's up with you today?”

“Daddy and I watched the turtle eggs last night to be sure nothing happened to them. We slept in a chair on the beach and did everything you said.”

“A chair? On the beach? All night?” Caroline's eyebrow rose. “Kemp's ridley eggs have an incubation period of forty-five to fifty-eight days.”

He gave Caroline a lopsided smile. “Izzie is nothing if not enthusiastic. Remind you of anyone?” He made a show of rubbing his back. “Thanks a lot, Doc.”

She smiled back.

His heart did a curious flip. Someone should've warned him about Caroline Duer's smile. He'd gotten the impression she wasn't a woman given to smiling a lot.

She rocked Izzie in the folds of her dress. “I don't recall telling you to pull an all-nighter. It's early days still.”

“We stopped by the lab before church, and one of the college students said Turtle Mama was doing great.”

Caroline cupped her palm over Izzie's cheek. “Yes, she's doing better than we expected.” Her thumb caressed a stray freckle.

His heart lurched at her unconscious tenderness for his child. “Caroline—”

A beeping sounded from her purse.

“Oh. Sorry.” Caroline released Izzie and scrabbled through her tote bag. She examined her cell phone. “A text from the intern manning the Stranding Response Team phone. We've got another incoming patient found by one of the Coastie fast boats.”

She placed a quick kiss on Izzie's rumpled curls. “I'd better head to Wachapreague and meet them at the center.”

“Wait, Caroline...” Izzie caught her arm midmotion. Caroline's bracelets jangled. “I need to ask you a question first.”

“Okay, Izzie.” Caroline pulled free and fiddled with the stack of metallic and woven bracelets encircling her wrist. “What is it, Ladybug?”

“Are you going to Honey's baby shower?”

Caroline moved toward the car door. “Yes, I am.”

Izzie inserted herself between the vet and the car. “Me, too. But would you go shopping with me and help me pick out something to wear?”

Caroline paused, her hand on the door. “Um...” She flicked her eyes at Weston.

“You have plenty of clothes you can wear, Izzie.”

Izzie lifted her chin. “I don't have a dress.” She gestured at the purple T-shirt and capris she'd worn to the church service. Every day in coastal Kiptohanock was casual. Sundays, too.

He folded his arms across his chest. “You don't need a dress to look nice.”

“Caroline's wearing a dress. Doesn't she look nice in a dress, Daddy?”

His turn to stammer. “Uh...”

Actually, Caroline Duer looked like a well-groomed version of Jackie Onassis in flip-flops. Nice didn't begin to cover it.

Caroline tilted her head. And waited.

“Yes, she looks very nice, but that doesn't mean you...” He raked his hand over his head. “You know fashion isn't in my wheelhouse, Monkey Girl.”

Izzie seized hold of the car door. “Caroline could take me shopping.”

He reddened. “Izzie, I'm sure she's busy.”

“I'd love to take Izzie shopping.” Caroline gave him a defiant look. “Why don't you bring her to the rescue center later this week—say Thursday—about four o'clock?”

Izzie bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yay!”

“You don't need to—”

“And you're welcome.” Caroline slipped behind the wheel.

His lips quirked. “Like you said yesterday, I'm sure I would've managed somehow, but...”

She laughed. “Not much of a people person, are you?”

He closed the door with a soft click. “People, like fashion, can be complicated. I'm better with blueprints.”

Weston leaned his elbows against the car window. “Will you allow me to fix dinner after you and Izzie return from your shopping expedition? I could give you a tour of our home-slash-work-in-progress.”

She smiled at him. “I'd like that. Till then?”

He nodded and pulled Izzie a safe distance away. Caroline waved as she headed out of the gravel lot.

Till then.
His mouth went dry. Had he lost what little mind he still possessed? What had he done?

Chapter Six

C
aroline didn't know what she found more disturbing. That she was having dinner with the Clarks. Or
how much
she was looking forward to having dinner with the Clarks.

Okay, with Weston in particular, although she was as equally thrilled to spend the afternoon with Izzie. Honey—the real Duer fashionista—had directed Caroline to check out a new boutique in Onancock.

The talk with Reverend Parks on Tuesday morning had gone well. He'd been surprisingly candid about his own struggles with grief after the death of his first wife and a child. He was easy to talk with and not shocked when she told him what she'd done three years ago. She couldn't believe she'd come clean to this near stranger. But she felt lighter after sharing her mistakes.

“I've known your father for years,” Reverend Parks told her. “My mother was the closest thing to a friend your grandmother Kate had in those days. My mother's greatest regret was in not acting sooner. In not forcing Kate's secret into the light of day and therefore preventing a tragedy.”

Caroline shook her head. “I'm not sure I follow what you're saying.”

“Hurts only grow more painful if not lanced before they fester.” He'd dropped his gaze to his hands, steepled on his desk in the church office. “It was only after your father's heart attack that Seth finally opened up to me. Now we meet once a week over Long Johns at the Sandpiper. It's been good for both of us.”

“Secrets? Grandmother Duer?” Caroline scanned the reverend's features. “I don't understand.”

A frown puckered the bridge of the reverend's nose. “I thought...” He flushed. “I think you and your father should talk.”

“Why can't you tell me?”

“Because it's not my secret to tell, and healing often comes in the telling. Would you like to meet again?” The reverend opened his hands. “Just to talk while you're here this summer?”

Caroline found herself agreeing. “Maybe over ice cream?”

The reverend patted his stomach. “Great idea.”

She spent the next two days working with an IT student at the community college to create a website for the pilot program. She did a local radio interview and presented an informative turtle talk at the elementary school. Anything to keep from dwelling on what she'd gotten herself into—dinner with Weston Clark.

On Thursday, while waiting for Weston to drop off Izzie at the institute, Caroline fussed with a stray tendril of hair that refused to stay in place. This was such a mistake. What was she doing taking a child shopping? What was she doing accepting dinner invites from a man who made her heart beat in triple time?

This was insane. She ought to pick up her phone right now and—

“Don't you look nice?” From her office doorway, Roland's eyes twinkled. “No ponytail or turtle T-shirt today. Got a date, huh?”

She lifted her chin. “Absolutely not. I'm taking a little girl shopping.”

Roland leaned against the doorframe. “That little girl wouldn't be Weston Clark's daughter, would it?” He laughed. “No wonder you ditched the jeans and flip-flops.”

She pursed her lips and gave him a haughty look. “This is not because of Weston Clark.”

Roland crossed his arms. “Don't overthink this, Caroline. Be open to the possibilities. Just enjoy yourself.”

She focused on rolling her white shirtsleeves over the cuffs of the brown cardigan. “I had a project meeting with the county commissioners this morning about a tract of land for the proposed rescue center.” Adjusting her bracelets, Caroline sniffed. “There was no time to change afterward.”

Roland cut his eyes out the window overlooking the VIMS parking lot. “Whatever you say, Dr. Duer.” He smirked. “And I think your date is here.”

“He's not my— Oh.”

The little red-haired girl charged across the parking lot toward the entrance. Izzie's father, Caroline couldn't help noticing, wasn't moving so quickly. He probably already regretted asking her to dinner. Probably trying to devise a way to renege his offer.

“I'd say break a leg, but with those spiky brown heels you're wearing, you might anyway.”

Grabbing her purse off the chair, she brushed past the grinning Roland and hurried down the hall toward the lobby.

Caroline didn't renege. When she made a promise, she kept it. But she also couldn't help sneaking a quick look at her makeup as she approached the glass-fronted door.

Izzie flung open the door. Arms outstretched, she barreled into Caroline and entwined her arms around Caroline's waist. Thrown off balance, Caroline rocked back a step to regain her equilibrium. Weston caught Caroline's elbow to steady them both.

When his hand touched her arm, her pulse jumpstarted. Tingles like ladybugs frolicking across her skin. And with the appreciative gleam in his eye, she was glad she'd taken extra pains with her clothes this morning.

Izzie yanked Caroline toward the exit. His hand fell away. And Caroline immediately missed its warmth on her arm.

“Bye, Daddy.”

His brow creased. “Are you ditching your old dad so soon?”

Caroline teetered and put the brakes on Izzie's momentum. “I'm taking Izzie to Onancock to a new boutique. Don't worry about fixing dinner for me, but I promise I'll have her home by—”

“Are you dumping my dinner plans?”

She played with the swaying golden hoop on her earlobe. “More like letting you off the hook. I'm sure you've got more important things to do than—”

“Izzie and I have to eat, don't we?” he growled.

Why did Weston Clark take everything she said the wrong way? She was only thinking of him—and that was the understatement of the decade. All she'd done all day was think of him.

And her. Eating dinner. Together.

She'd spent the better part of four days trying to erase thoughts of him from her brain. In vain.

“You've got to eat, too.” He scowled. “It's not a big deal.”

She was making way more out of this than Weston intended.

Izzie pulled her toward the door. “Come on, Caroline... We're burning daylight.”

Caroline's lips twitched.

His expression eased. “Stores close and sidewalks roll up around here come 6:00 p.m. in case you've forgotten.”

“Roger that, Commander.” She gave him a mock salute. “I'll have Seaman Clark home before then.”

“And you'll stay for dinner?”

She gave him a sideways glance and twined that unruly strand of hair around her finger. “I'll stay.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Good.” He angled toward his daughter. “You've got the money I gave you?”

Izzie nodded.

He sighed. “Have a fun time, Monkey Girl. And you, too, Turtle Lady. Try not to buy out the store.”

The turtle lady's lips curved. “Affirmative. You have yourself a good afternoon, too.”

“Caroline...” Izzie tugged.

She allowed herself to be propelled out the door. And cast a swift look over her shoulder to Weston still standing at the entrance. A forlorn expression flittered across his countenance. As if he hadn't wanted to be left behind.

Her imagination, she decided. Time to himself for a single dad was probably a rare commodity. Like shopping with little girls was a rarity in Caroline's life. So she promised herself to enjoy this opportunity to the utmost.

On the road, she glanced in the rearview mirror to Izzie, buckled in the backseat. “I think any shopping expedition should begin with chocolate. How about we stop at Scoops and get a milk shake?”

Milk shakes, she had on good authority from Amelia, were less messy than cones.

The little girl's face shone. “I'm so happy I could bust, Caroline.”

It had been a long time since her presence had made anyone happy. A numbed part of Caroline's heart unfurled. Like the apple-green leaves on the willow tree by the creek in spring after a dreadful winter.

“Me, too, Ladybug.” She blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “Me, too.”

* * *

Weston found himself listening to one of Izzie's CDs in the truck on the way home from Wachapreague. Because without his chatterbox daughter, he couldn't stand the quiet. The afternoon yawned ahead of him. So with time heavy on his hands, on impulse he allowed himself to be sidetracked by the idea of a Long John and coffee at the Sandpiper.

He winced. That was the best he could do? First time in months with no Izzie, what a party animal he turned out to be. Did he know how to have a good time or what?

Maybe he should give the Kiptohanock single ladies a closer look. A short list, which despite the dinner invite wouldn't include Caroline Duer, no matter how fetching she appeared. Dinner was about Izzie's feelings. He, Weston James Clark, was immune to Caroline's charms.

Yeah, right. He grimaced at the remembered feeling of her hand in his.
But
if it helps you sleep at night, keep telling yourself that, Weston, ol' buddy.

Pulling into the parking lot between the Coast Guard station and the café, he waved to a Coastie crew departing on a fast boat from the adjacent CG dock. Only to be intercepted by Seth Duer exiting the diner.

“Uh, Weston...” Seth pulled at his bristly mustache. “Could I have a quick word with you?”

He nodded and followed the seasoned waterman to an empty booth. He'd heard tales of Seth Duer's protectiveness of his daughters. Tales involving shotguns.

Small-town grapevines being what they were, Seth had probably heard about Weston's dinner plans. He'd set the old man's mind at ease. No shotguns needed in this situation.

A waitress, Dixie, extricated a pen from where she'd lodged it behind her ear. “Thought you'd gone, Seth Duer. You want seconds?”

Seth waved his hand. “I'm good.” He focused his attention across the booth on Weston. “How
aboot
you?”

He didn't have a good feeling from the steely look in the waterman's blue-green eyes. “Just a coffee and Long John.”

Seth pursed his lips. “This won't take long. Get it to go, if you like.”

His gut sank further. Dixie arched her brow. “To go it is.”

Dixie jotted something on her notepad and gave Weston's shoulder a commiserating pat on her way to the kitchen. An uncomfortable silence settled between the men.

Finally, Seth placed both hands, palms down, on the tabletop. “I like you, son. May I call you son?”

Weston gave him a curt nod.

“Fact is, I believe you to be a good, decent man.”

He wasn't sure Jessica's father would've agreed with Seth Duer's assessment of his character. After the way things had ended with Jessica, he wasn't sure he agreed with Seth Duer's assessment of his character, either.

“You're new around here. And that little girl of yours is a sweetheart.” Seth's mouth thinned, and disappeared behind the mustache. “Despite Reverend Parks's words on Sunday, I can't in good conscience advise you to pursue any relationship with Caroline.”

Weston's mouth fell open. “You're warning me off? For mine and Izzie's sake? Because—”

“Because family sticks together in times of need.” Seth raised his chin, in a mannerism not unlike Caroline. “Family takes care of family, but Caroline only takes care of herself.”

“I'm sure Caroline had her reasons—”

“You can't trust Caroline.”

Immediate words of defense on Caroline's behalf rose to Weston's lips. But Seth was right about one thing. Weston was new around here. He didn't know why Caroline left her family so abruptly, never to return until now. Yet why would Caroline's own father say such things about her if they weren't true?

Every conflict had two sides to the story. He aimed to find out what would induce a woman like Caroline to abandon those who loved her. And in doing so, perhaps find closure over the choices Jessica had made, too.

“Caroline's been kind to Izzie.”

Seth snared him with a look. “And you're sitting here telling me there's no interest on your part in my daughter?”

Weston dropped his eyes.

“I'm not trying to be harsh, Weston. Only honest. 'Cause if you or Izzie are seeing Caroline as anything more than...”

He raised his gaze as Seth shrugged.

“She's not mother material. I don't want your little girl to get hurt the way...” Seth's eyes flashed. “Take it from me.” Seth's mouth hardened. “She'll destroy your heart.”

Just like Jessica.

But Weston feared Seth's warning for Izzie—if not him—might already have come too late.

* * *

Caroline couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this happy. Maybe since before her mother's cancer diagnosis and subsequent death. She glanced in the rearview mirror into the backseat, where, with shopping bags piled high, Izzie chatted nonstop.

Leaving Accomac, Caroline made a right turn onto the causeway spanning the tidal creek separating the Neck from the rest of the peninsula. She darted a quick look at the car's dashboard. “In plenty of time for supper, Izz.”

Izzie bobbed in the seat. “We'll give Daddy a fashion show of everything we bought.”

She'd take her cue from Weston, Caroline decided. Cut dinner short if things got awkward.

Caroline barely managed to park beside the one-story white brick lightkeeper's cottage before Izzie unleashed the seat belt and swung the door open.

“We're home, Daddy!” Izzie yelled, and grabbed a shopping bag.

Caroline removed the key from the ignition. Home wasn't something Caroline could claim. And some of the afternoon's happiness dimmed for her.

She made her way around to the other side to collect the rest of their shopping extravaganza. She shouldn't have allowed Izzie to talk her into buying a dress for herself. But once inside the cottage, she'd separate their purchases and make a quick exit.