Author: Robyn Carr
“We can give her anything she needs,” he said.
“You’re damn good at taking care of her, son. I’m impressed by the quality of care she gets at home but we both knew it had limits. Not only does your mom deserve a better quality of life, but so do you and your brothers.”
“That’s the thing, Doc. If she goes into the nursing home, are they going to let me take on the house and the boys? No, they’re not, that’s what. They’re going to go to foster homes, maybe different ones. They might even make me go for a few months and then what happens to the house? I can tell you right now, that’s not happening. I can take care of myself.”
“Justin, don’t concentrate on worst-case scenarios—we might find a foster family right in Thunder Point. Aside from the boys sleeping in another family’s house, there won’t be that much different about your lives. Except they won’t have to work so hard to keep things together at home. Now, let’s talk about your dad....”
“He’s gone, Doc. He left about six years ago. They’ve been divorced for five years. He sent money for a couple of years but we haven’t seen a check in a long time. I don’t know where he is....”
“Where was he last?” Scott asked.
“I think, Portland. And we’re not going to Portland!”
“It might keep the three of you together.”
“Wherever the boys end up, I’ll go there and get work. But not with him. You think he’s a solution? The guy who took off and left three little kids alone with a sick mother?”
“I’d be the last guy to nominate him for father of the year,” Scott said. “I’m going to get to work on this right away, son. I’ve been asking questions and making phone calls, but now it’s time to take some action. We’re going to find a solution to this that works for you and your brothers. Try not to worry too much.”
Justin gave a huff of laughter. “Right. Well, worry seems to be what I do best.”
Fifteen
Laine couldn’t believe how satisfying and tranquil her life had become.
The few cases she managed were simple and left plenty of time for her to work out at the dojo, to enjoy her deck in the warming spring weather, make good use of her kitchen and best of all, have quality time with Eric. And then the one thing that could completely derail her happened. The doorbell rang in late afternoon. She opened it to stare into the eyes of her father.
“Oh, God,” she said. She was momentarily paralyzed.
“Are we just going to stand here and stare at each other?” Senior said.
She stepped back so he could enter. “How did you find me?”
“The way any intelligent person would. I hired someone to find you. I knew approximately where you were even though you’ve done your best to remove me from your life.”
“Couldn’t the person you hired have found you a phone number?”
“Why bother with that? You wouldn’t talk to me. Let’s not make this harder than it already is—I’m here to make amends. I need my children back in my life. You’re all I have.”
“You have Pax, the one you find acceptable.”
He frowned, his dark brows lowering. “Pax has his own family and his fellowship, I have very little of him. Except that he’s checking on me all the time now. But he doesn’t ask me what’s going on with me—he asks the help. But Pax will at least talk to me.”
They stood in the foyer. He glanced around, lifting a dark eyebrow as he peered into the study, where her desk and computer sat. He was such a big man, so full of bluster and stubbornness, she crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “There were terms,” she reminded him. “I told you I didn’t want to hear from you until we made some changes in our relationship.”
“Can we sit down?” he asked. “We need to get this put to bed.”
She shook her head. “I was clear. You were clearly stubborn.”
“What do you want from me, Laine? Want me to say I’m sorry?” he asked. His voice boomed as usual. His physique matched his voice—he was robust, fit, tanned as though he’d been on vacation. He’d been bald forever, as long as she could remember, with a dark ring of hair around his dome. He was a handsome man. Her mother used to say he looked just like Trapper John, M.D., possibly accounting for the many reruns of that series they watched when Laine was a little girl. For a seventy-year-old man his belly was surprisingly flat, his arms well-muscled, legs straight. He didn’t look his age. “Now can we sit and talk?”
She gave a singular nod and turned, walking into the house, into the kitchen. As she passed the table she pulled out a chair for him, giving another nod toward it. “What would you like to drink? Tea? Wine? Cola?”
“Coffee?” he asked.
“I’ll brew a pot.”
She got busy in the kitchen while he sat at the table, taking in the view. “Well, this isn’t bad,” he said. “I can see why you were drawn to it. But it’s not as though we don’t have views back East. This place has nothing on Cape Cod, the Hamptons, Kennebunkport, Newport...”
She loved the unique and exquisite view but now she knew that’s not why she’d come to Thunder Point. “I don’t live alone here,” she said. She set the coffee to brew and opened a bottle of wine. She felt a sudden temptation to take a few gulps from the bottle, but she poured herself a small glass. She went to the table and sat across from him. “I live with a man. I’ve lived with him for almost three months. His name is Eric.”
“And what does he do?” Senior asked.
She tilted her head and leveled her gaze at his piercing blue eyes. Of course her father didn’t ask if he was a good man, if he was kind or intelligent or funny or generous. He didn’t wonder if he had integrity. “He owns a gas station.”
“A gas station?” he asked with a short laugh. “Well, you must like him.”
She leaned toward him. “I don’t need his rent money. I’m never lonely, especially when I’m alone. I’m not needy. I’m not scared. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. Of course I like him.”
He smiled slightly. “Ah, so he’s brave.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Because you’re a terrifying woman.”
Impatient, she leaned back in her chair and even though she was sitting, her hands went to her hips. “Is this about the FBI again?”
“Oh, I’ve been warned about that,” he said, holding up his hands with palms toward her. “But I got to thinking—we should put all that to rest for your mother’s sake.”
“It’s a bit late for that. Mom is finally free of our conflicted relationship,” she said. “And she always supported my choices.” She got up and went to the cupboard, retrieving a mug. She poured him some coffee. Then she put cream and sugar on the table with a spoon. She glanced at the clock—five-fifteen. While Senior dressed his coffee, she pulled her phone into her lap, hidden, and texted Eric: My father is here!
He texted back right away. Do you need me?
See you at six? she texted back and he replied immediately, I’ll be there.
“Eric will be home around six,” she told her father. “I was busy most of the day so I didn’t cook. Where are you staying?”
“Laine,” he grumbled. “Am I not welcome here? Don’t you have a guest room?”
She took a sip of her wine. “Here’s the deal, Dad. The last time we were together for more than twenty-four hours we got into a shouting match and it all started when I told you I was getting a commendation from the FBI and you belittled me. You said you’d much rather have a daughter without a bullet in her shoulder than any kind of award—you said I was a huge disappointment to you. You said you didn’t want to hear another word about it and you said you wouldn’t celebrate it.”
He lifted his chin defiantly.
“And do you remember what I said?” she continued.
“That I owed you an apology, which I offered before sitting at your table.”
“No, you didn’t. You asked if I wanted one and the answer is still the same. Yes, I do.”
“Fine. Consider this an apology. What else?”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you joking or just trying to be difficult? That wasn’t an apology! You have to change your attitude! You’ve been critical of every choice I’ve made since I was seventeen and I’m done. Do you hear me, Dad? Because I’m serious about this—there’s no point in us having a relationship if it’s going to be toxic.”
“Tell me what you want, Laine!”
He was unbelievable. “I want you to be proud of me when I accomplish something I worked hard at but if that’s not possible I at least insist you not criticize my efforts. Otherwise, we don’t have a relationship.”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll do that. Can we be at peace on this? For once?”
“Understand something, Dad—I’m serious about this. This is the last time I quarrel with you about how I choose to live my life. It’s not as though I’m making bad choices. I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m doing something right. I’m doing something very difficult and admirable, something very few can do and I am tired of the tension between us. If you can’t show me respect, I don’t want you in my life.” And what she couldn’t put into words—he was the only man who could hurt her! Why that was, she couldn’t understand.
“I’m your father,” he said. “I want us to get along.”
“That’s entirely up to you,” she told him. “I don’t criticize you.”
“Oh, but you do. You call me narrow-minded, toxic, critical and last I heard, a selfish ass with...what was that you said...?”
She chewed her lip briefly. She remembered perfectly—she said he had a highly developed sense of entitlement, but she wasn’t about to help him remember. “Because of the way you treat me!”
“Treat you how? We exchanged words maybe, I don’t even remember the circumstances. Show me a family that doesn’t disagree sometimes.”
“Don’t tell me you can’t remember it!”
“Well, I won’t argue with you again. You obviously take my opinions too personally. You know, Laine, some people are sensitive and some are just plain touchy.”
She sat back in her chair. “You don’t even know you do it, do you? You never say a positive thing! Now I’m touchy because I was hurt by your insulting remarks! You know, some people are opinionated and some are just rude and cruel!”
Laine tried to calm herself. It wasn’t as if Senior had never apologized, though it wasn’t often. He could be charming when he put his mind to it. Her mother had adored him; his nurses and techs loved him; his patients worshipped him. But pretending not to remember a blowout that was pivotal in their relationship? He was a giant ass, that’s all.
“You know how I feel about you, Laine. I’m your father, of course I love you. I’ve always been proud of you. I’m proud of everything you do.”
“You don’t ever say that,” she said.
“You took first place in the King Oak dressage competition. I filmed the whole event. We watched it together repeatedly. We celebrated! That’s a father’s pride, right there!”
She gave her head a slight shake, narrowing her eyes. Her mouth stood open slightly. She hadn’t ridden in competition in over fifteen years. The event he mentioned was almost twenty years ago in Massachusetts. Was he kidding? She was just about to light into him for using a twenty-year-old example in an argument proving he was devoted when—