Hold on My Heart (27 page)

Libby arrived at the ice-cream parlor at noon ready to hammer, or sand, or do whatever task she was able to help with, but the tiny parking lot was full of trucks. She parked in the street and started walking. The sounds of voices and laughter and power tools got louder, growing along with her curiosity as she got closer.

She pushed open the door to find a room full of flannel-shirted workmen with tool belts slung from their waists. Tom was off to one side with two other men, looking at some type of diagram, but he lifted his head and smiled brightly as she entered. He crossed the room, dodging around cords and random boards, until he reached her side. He nudged her back through the door until they stood out on the front porch.

“What is all this? Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

He shook his head, a look of pleased disbelief on his face. “I didn’t know. I showed up this morning, and an old friend of mine was here waiting. The next thing I knew, I had a full crew. They do carpentry, Libby. There are builders and plumbers and electricians working in there right now.” His voice was gruff with joy. “This is going to save us a ton of time.”

“But how is my dad supposed to pay for this?” Marti’s nonexistent wedding fund was next on the chopping block, but surely that little bit of money had already been promised to the Medieval Times banquet hall.

“It’s free,” he said.

“Free? Why?”

Tom shook his head again, solemnity washing over his features. “Because I did a few favors for a couple of friends, and now they’re here paying me back.”

Tom’s head dropped with his voice and his shoulders, humility and gratitude hitting all the angles. This obviously meant a great deal to him.

Tears prickled at her eyes, and she wanted to hug him, but not with so many eyes watching them through an open door.

Tom rubbed a hand across his jaw and looked at her. “I just don’t know why they’d do this for me, Libby. I didn’t do anything special. Not enough to make them take time away from their own jobs to be here. I haven’t even talked to half of these guys since before the accident.”

He didn’t know why, but she did. “I guess they see the whole elephant.”

A smile tilted the corners of his lips, and he nodded with understanding.

“Yeah, maybe. But it’s for your dad, too. A lot of these guys had him for a teacher, and everybody liked him.”

A blossom of appreciation bloomed inside Libby’s chest. She pressed her hand against it. “That’s so incredibly sweet, it makes me want to cry. Do you think I should bring my dad down here? It might really cheer him up, because he’s feeling very blue today. And maybe I could even have Dante come to take some video? Do you think that would be okay?”

Tom nodded. “Yeah, of course. The guys would get a big kick out of that, being movie stars.”

“Dante will be all over it.” Her excitement bubbled over.

“Hey, do you know what I would get a big kick out of?” He lowered his voice and stepped closer.

“What?”

“I was thinking I’d like for you to come over again tonight.”

His words sent a sizzle to all the right places. “It might cost you.” She’d been wondering how to bring this up. Here was just the chance.

“I’ll pay it. Any amount.”

She laughed out loud at his eagerness. “Not money.”

He tilted his head up. “Not money? Hmm, now I’m intrigued. What’s your price?”

“I know you’re still not sure about Thanksgiving, which is totally fine, but will you come to Marti’s wedding with me?”

His mouth opened, but no sound came out for a few seconds. “The dungeon-themed wedding? With the costumes and the horses and the big turkey legs?”

“Yep. I’ll be wearing a corset.”

“A corset?” He ran a hand across his jaw again. “Well, that certainly sways me.”

T
om drove up to Connie’s parents’ house just as the sun was dipping behind the tree line, casting gold streamers and elongated shadows across a lawn scattered with autumn leaves. His daughter wasn’t outside in the driveway. This time he was going in. Rachel had arranged it with her grandparents.

It was foolish, really, his avoidance of this house. It wasn’t as if the memory of Connie could wound him any more here than it did anywhere else.

He glanced up at the house now, his hands shaking a little as he took the keys from the ignition. This meeting was long overdue, and he was ready to put it behind him. A fleeting ray of sunshine skimmed over his left arm, halting on his hand where his wedding band had once been, warming the spot. He’d taken it off only a few months ago. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But that little ray cheered him. Tom wasn’t the type to believe in signs, but if he were, he might think that was Connie waving.

What had happened in the past was no less tragic today than it had been a year and a half ago. But it was time to put that moment where it belonged. In the past.

He got out of the truck and strode to the front door, knocking with no hesitation.

Anne opened it, looking smaller and more frail than he remembered. Rachel was right. They were getting older.

“Hello, Anne,” he said, wishing that encouraging little ray of light might follow him into the foyer.

Rachel came into view just then, smiling. “Hi, Dad. Come on in.”

Anne opened the door wider. “I’m glad you called, Tom. It’s good to see you.”

Was it? Or were her manners that impeccable? Anne was gracious to a fault. It used to drive Connie crazy that her mother never said anything that hinted at a real opinion. Probably because George was so full of them there wasn’t any room in this house for anyone else’s.

“Please, come into the study. Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you.” He followed her into the next room and looked around. Little had changed inside this place. Big flowers on the wallpaper, stiff, striped furniture that looked about as inviting as his old father-in-law was sure to be. Everything here had a sharp-edged formality, elegant and refined. Just as Connie had been before she’d fallen for him in the backseat of his beat-up old Chevy Cavalier.

George came in from the kitchen, carrying a drink that looked like bourbon, the ice clinking against the glass. Tom’s mouth went a little dry. A good stiff drink would surely help his nerves, but he never drank the hard stuff anymore.

“Won’t you sit down?” Anne murmured, gesturing to the least comfortable chair in a room full of uncomfortable chairs.

“Thank you. You’re looking well, Anne.” He settled into the stiff little seat. Rachel sat on the love seat closest to him while Anne and George found spots in the two chairs across from him.

“What brings you here, Tom?” George interrupted before Anne could reply. This was going to be a smack-down if Connie’s father had his way. Skip the pleasantries.

Tom had thought long and hard about just what to say. He recalled every bit of advice he’d heard from Dr. Brandt and tried to roll it up into one tidy package. He’d done everything except rehearse it in the mirror.

“First of all, I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of Rachel. She’s thrived here, and I know that’s because of your love and support.”

George took a sip of the drink. “We don’t need your thanks for that. Someone had to be responsible.”

The implication was clear. Tom was irresponsible. He couldn’t fault George for thinking that, but he was here today to prove him wrong.

Anne pressed a subtle hand against her husband’s leg. “Tom, it’s our privilege to have Rachel here with us.”

George turned his head. “Rachel, honey, why don’t you go on in the kitchen and find yourself a snack? Let the grown-ups talk for a minute.”

Tom looked her way and saw the color rise in her cheeks.

“I’d like to stay, Grandpa, if you don’t mind.”

George’s brows pinched together, his jaw jutted forward. “But you don’t need to be here for this.”

“I’d like Rachel to stay, George. This concerns her, so she has every right to be a part of it.”

George opened his mouth, but it was Anne who said, “Yes, of course she can stay.”

The tides were turning. It seemed Anne was at least partially on his side and willing to show it. Suddenly Tom wished he had done this much, much sooner.

But maybe if he had, Rachel wouldn’t have been ready. Hell, maybe he wouldn’t have been ready before today either. He had needed time to forgive himself.

Rachel folded her legs up under her bottom just like she always did at Dr. Brandt’s office. The familiar gesture relaxed Tom, even though it may have been her subconscious way of showing how stubborn she could be.

“As I was saying, I appreciate all you’ve done for my daughter. This has been an extremely difficult period for each of us, and I know we all want what’s best for her. I also think she’s old enough to make certain decisions for herself. That’s why I haven’t insisted she come home to live with me. But if Rachel chooses to move home, I’m asking you to respect her wishes and not try to change her mind.”

“
If
she chooses?” George’s brows rose in surprise then just as quickly dove into a frown.

“Yes, Grandpa,” Rachel spoke up. “Dad and I have been talking about this, and he agrees it makes sense for me to stay here and keep riding the bus to Monroe High until the end of the school year. But once I can drive, it might be time to move back in with him. I haven’t completely decided yet.”

Relief washed over Anne’s face, giving her a less pinched expression. It was obvious to Tom that they’d both expected him to toss Rachel over his shoulder and steal her away from them that very night.

“That’s ridiculous,” George said, turning his glare toward Tom. “You can’t expect a child to understand the ramifications of that kind of decision. She’s far better off here where both Anne and I can keep an eye on her, not out there in that farmhouse all alone while you’re off doing God knows what.”

Tom leaned forward in his chair, resting elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. Staying calm was the best way to handle this. If he got defensive or angry, George would only do the same, and they’d get nowhere.

“Look, I know what you think of me. And I know I haven’t handled every aspect of this situation in the most constructive manner. In hindsight, I should have brought Rachel home as soon as I got out of the hospital, but at the time, I thought I was making the best choice for her. I didn’t want her going through the upheaval of switching schools. And I should have kept in closer contact with the two of you and not put Rachel in the center. Now I know better.”

George’s ruddy complexion deepened to crimson. “Now you know better? What good is that to us? You should’ve known better than to take my daughter out joyriding when she was seventeen years old. And you sure as hell should’ve known better than to drive so recklessly on an icy road. Your poor judgment has cost me enough already.” He tossed his drink back, and then slammed the empty glass down on the table.

“It wasn’t his fault, Grandpa.” Rachel sat up and put her feet back on the floor. “It was an accident.”

They all turned to her, and Tom’s heart vaulted upward.

He’d never heard her defend him. Not once. Not in the counselor’s office or even when it was just the two of them together. Her support meant as much to Tom as if she’d promised to come home with him that very minute.

George glowered at his granddaughter. “Accidents happen when people are careless, Rachel. And I’m not so careless that I’d let you live where no one can look out for you.”

“I’m not a little girl, Grandpa. I’m nearly sixteen years old, and being stuck in the middle of this feud between you and my dad is exhausting.
If I decide to move, you have to let me.” Her cheeks turned bright pink, and her voice rose an octave.

“George,” Tom said, “I understand your determination to protect Rachel. But mine is equal to that. I’m ready and absolutely capable of taking care of her. I know you doubt that. But I don’t.”

Tom’s lungs burned from the effort of keeping his breath steady, but he’d say what he needed to.

The moment hung suspended. It was Anne who spoke up first. “Rachel, darling. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you like, or move when you’re ready. I support your decision.”

“Now wait a minute,” George finally sputtered. “This isn’t some lark, Anne. We’re talking about her safety and her future.”

“Yes, George. I know that.” Anne stared back at her husband, her spine ramrod straight, until he grumbled and stood up. He walked over to the window, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets.

Anne reached out to Rachel. “Maybe we should let your father have a minute with Grandpa.”

Rachel glanced at Tom. He nodded, pleased she’d looked to him for guidance. Once she and Anne had left the room, he joined George at the window. It was dark out now. No sign of that encouraging little beam of sunlight. These next words were harder than the others but needed saying even more.

“George, until recently I never fully appreciated how it must have felt to you, knowing Connie was sneaking out to be with me. Or what you must have thought when she got pregnant. Now that Rachel is nearly that age, it makes me a little crazy thinking she might do the same thing. And I’d hate that kid just as much as you hate me.”