Unexpected Family
Jill Kemerer
His Surprise Daughter After five years apart, Tom Sheffield is shocked to find his ex-wife, Stephanie, on his doorstep. The news that they share a child he's never met sends him reeling. Four-year-old Macy has his eyes, his mouth and, from their first encounter, his heart. Things with her mother are much more complicated. He doesn't understand what went wrong between them or why she kept their daughter a secret. And he's afraid of falling in love all over again. Yet he feels a glimmer of hope that somehow he can convince Macy and Stephanie to stay in Lake Endwell–and with him–for keeps.
His Surprise Daughter
After five years apart, Tom Sheffield is shocked to find his ex-wife, Stephanie, on his doorstep. The news that they share a child he’s never met sends him reeling. Four-year-old Macy has his eyes, his mouth and, from their first encounter, his heart. Things with her mother are much more complicated. He doesn’t understand what went wrong between them or why she kept their daughter a secret. And he’s afraid of falling in love all over again. Yet he feels a glimmer of hope that somehow he can convince Macy and Stephanie to stay in Lake Endwell—and with him—for keeps.
“It’s strange. Being here again.”
Stephanie scanned the room. “Brings back memories.”
“Any good ones?” The question slipped out.
She lowered her chin. “A few.”
“Well, most of my memories of us together were good.” Tom kept his voice low. The past pressed against his chest, his heart craving the release of honesty. All the times he’d blamed her for ruining his life had overshadowed one big fact: he’d loved her, loved being married to her, and those days, for him, had been good.
“Most of them?” She picked at the edge of her sweater.
“Until we fell apart.”
“Are you sure your memory isn’t tricking you?” Her tone held no trace of sarcasm.
“It’s not. I might not have been what you needed, but that time was special for me.” He grazed her hand.
She glanced at him, questions in her eyes.
“I know we can’t go back,” he said. “I just wanted you to know. I was happy being married to you.”
JILL KEMERER writes novels with love, humor and faith. Besides spoiling her mini dachshund and keeping up with her busy kids, Jill reads stacks of books, lives for her morning coffee and gushes over fluffy animals. She resides in Ohio with her husband and two children. Jill loves connecting with readers, so please visit her website, jillkemerer.com (http://jillkemerer.com), or contact her at PO Box 2802, Whitehouse, OH 43571.
Unexpected
Family
Jill Kemerer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
—Psalms 13:2
For Olivia and Brandon.
You make me a better person.
I’m blessed by you each day!
Contents
Cover (#ua25b0630-78fd-5333-b97c-8c50a423593a)
Back Cover Text (#ufd6e3b97-d872-58b8-9380-1cb45687875f)
Introduction (#udb702f2d-d7c4-56a3-a0e1-794472efb230)
About the Author (#u05438dc8-e1b2-596e-bbe7-1071964c2867)
Title Page (#u44306ed3-b416-5990-8009-5ca7ea5f8da8)
Bible Verse (#u3d5dcae1-e8eb-5702-8487-05d12b6c88b4)
Dedication (#ud975f982-6eb2-572a-9b70-0868328ca7aa)
Chapter One (#u7c1660b5-d95d-5cf9-9744-86ce0d2f03d8)
Chapter Two (#u1de4103e-ed02-5be4-a77e-3dab7ba7a0c2)
Chapter Three (#u012449d1-fd39-571d-8bb8-0593c5b916a5)
Chapter Four (#u64420e95-f9b8-5ecd-9dec-730e5080aba1)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_16270224-4bee-5545-9a7e-cbf12ba88675)
Stephanie Sheffield climbed the creaking steps of the tan bungalow nestled in a clearing of dense woods. The covered porch looked lonely. A welcome mat would go a long way to cheer the space. If she owned a home like this, she would bring it to life with bundles of corn husks, pumpkins and a pot or two of burgundy mums.
But she wasn’t here to mentally redecorate.
Guilt had consumed her for five years. A sixth year wasn’t an option. Stomach tightening, Stephanie knocked.
Seconds ticked by without any movement inside. Maybe he wasn’t home. Maybe she had the wrong address. Or maybe God was giving her a grace period.
Grace? God may have forgiven her, but she still had to pay for her sins.
Stephanie rapped louder and turned to view the property. She half expected a deer to leap onto the lawn, moist from an autumn drizzle. Crimson leaves fluttered down from a tall maple, and the cobalt blue of Michigan’s Lake Endwell peeked through in the distance. The lake threatened to unleash memories, ones she couldn’t afford to think about right now.
A lone figure jogged down the country road. He rounded the drive, and her muscles tensed.
Tom.
Did he still hate her?
If he didn’t, he soon would.
Drawing closer, he slowed to a walk. Shock flashed in those sink-into-them blue eyes, eyes that once lured her. Tousled dark brown hair softened his cheekbones. His straight nose pointed to a determined chin. He looked more athletic, more rugged than she remembered. Why couldn’t he have aged badly? And why did seeing him again make her feel as though she’d downed a warm cup of tea?
Stephanie leaned against the peeling porch rail and winced as pain shot up her rib cage. Now that he’d appeared, she had no idea what to say. Everything she’d rehearsed during the thirty-minute drive jumbled in her brain.
“What happened?” Tom closed the distance between them, reaching to touch her bruised cheek, but he snatched his hand back before making contact. His unexpected tenderness almost undid her. She chased away the sudden yearning for his touch.
“It’s nothing. I was in an accident yesterday. My car was totaled, but I’m fine. Bruised ribs. A few scratches.”
“Why are you here?” The tenderness was snuffed out like the candles she lit to chase away smells in her apartment.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Inside maybe?”
“Why?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest.
Because I’m about to shatter your world, and even strong Tom Sheffield will need a seat for this.
She gestured to the door.
He stood taller, legs shoulder width apart, intimidating in his gray sweatshirt and black shorts. The old Stephanie would have let him call the shots. But the old Stephanie had been a girl, not a woman in control of her life.
“It’s important.” A breeze played with the hair around her neck. She brushed it aside.
Finally he nodded, opening the faded red door. The living room, while tidy, lacked color. The only pictures were of some stadium and what appeared to be an autographed photo of a baseball team. A dark leather couch, love seat, matching chair and a huge television filled the room. No cozy aromas like vanilla or cinnamon lurked in the air.
She sat on the couch as he lowered his body into the chair. She’d mentally rehearsed this moment a million times. Gotten in her car to confess at least twice a week. Picked up the phone to tell him, to explain. And now she was here and her vocal chords went on strike.
“So?” He opened his hands, giving her a pointed look. Stephanie couldn’t tell if his gruff manner was real or an act, but it didn’t matter.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” she said. “I’ve wanted to. I’ve tried. But the accident yesterday—well, it got me here when nothing else would.” The rest of her speech stuck in her throat. His clenched jaw didn’t ease her nerves.
“Well, could you move things along?” He tapped his fingers against his thigh. “I’ve got another hour of training to get in.”
“Training?” The Tom she’d known had been driven by work. By success. He’d rarely spent time exercising or, for that matter, on anything outside his car dealership. He’d preferred his job to her.
“Look, I don’t have time for chitchat. If you have something to say, say it.” He shot to his feet, but he seemed more uncomfortable than angry.
“There’s no good way to do this, so I’m going to be blunt.” Say it. Do it. Get it over with. “You have a daughter.”
His mouth dropped open. He shut it. Opened it again.
Stephanie’s legs instinctively prepared to run, but she didn’t move. The expressions crumpling his face hit her harder than tears ever could. The man’s world had just imploded, and she’d launched the bomb. What could she possibly say? Sorry?
Sorry wasn’t good enough, and neither was she.
His chest expanded. Cheekbones strained against skin, and the vulnerability, the pain she’d witnessed, vanished, replaced by something cold, something that would have broken her before she became a believer. She girded herself.
“What kind of joke is this?” His tone was lethal, the words quiet.
“It’s not a joke.”
Tom stared at her as if she’d grown two horns and a tail. Maybe she had.
“A daughter?” He shook his head. “No.”
“Yes.”
His face drained of its healthy glow, replaced by a tinge of avocado green. “What’s her name?”
She hesitated, not expecting the question. What had she expected? Him to order her to get out? Absolutely. A slew of angry accusations? Yes. But the name? “Macy.”
“Macy,” he murmured. His glare was penetrating before confusion clouded it. “How? When?”
“She’s four. She’ll be five on April 20.”
He paced, growing six inches taller, everything about him bigger, restless. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She’d tried to justify not telling him—oh, how she’d tried—but only one of her reasons held up. Why would he care she’d stupidly thought she’d hurt him enough? That she’d feared he’d want to stay together for the baby’s sake? That she couldn’t, wouldn’t put him through a lifetime of being married to her?
“Remember the last thing you said to me?” Stephanie said softly. A flash of recognition crossed his face. She rose, setting her hand on the back of the couch to steady herself. “You said, ‘At least we didn’t have kids.’”
“I said a lot of stupid things that night. You should have told me you were pregnant.”
“I didn’t know I was pregnant then, and you served me with divorce papers the next week.” Stephanie trailed her finger over the leather. “But you’re right. I should have told you as soon as I found out. I was scared. Ashamed. I’d messed up our marriage. And I didn’t want to trap you into staying with me.”
If she could go back, be the person she was now instead of the insecure girl who married him... But she couldn’t. And it didn’t excuse him, either. His constant hours away had made it clear his job was number one. Macy deserved better than to be ignored.
“Not good enough.” The clipped words proved how much this was costing him. “Not when we’re talking about another life.”
“I know.” She tamped down the words battling to come out. His pale eyes held her captive, dared her to tell him the truth. What was the truth? “I told myself you’d moved on, so why disrupt your life? For all I knew, you could have gotten remarried, started your own family. You’d resent me barging into your world. But I know I was selfish.” Standing in front of him now, she could see how selfish she was.
“You’re telling me I have a daughter. A daughter.” He thrust his hand through his dark hair, his face haunted. “And I’m supposed to take your word about all this?”
Now that question she’d been expecting. She fumbled for her purse. “I have a picture.”
“Why are you doing this? Why now?”
“Because you deserve to know. You’ve always deserved to know, and Macy does, too. I can’t live with the guilt anymore. I’m sorry.” She swiped her phone and opened the photos to Macy’s smiling face. God, whatever happens here, don’t let it hurt my precious girl. She held it out to him. “Here. See for yourself.”
He didn’t accept it, but the pulse in his cheek throbbed—he clearly wrestled emotions. It wasn’t as if she’d fooled herself into thinking this meeting would be easy, but the reality of it? Brutal.
“Just look at the picture,” she said. “Take it.”
He took it from her hand. He blinked twice, his face relaxing. Then he snapped his attention to her. “She...”
Please let him see the obvious.
“My eyes...” He held it closer, peering at it. “She’s beautiful.”
“She is. She has your eyebrows, too. And your lips. She’s all yours.”
“Macy.” He traced his finger around the screen. He glanced up, recognition pushing the stress off his face. “Mine. I have a daughter.”
Out of all the scenarios she’d considered, she’d never allowed herself to hope he’d be happy. The full weight of what she’d done, what she had kept from him—how much she’d taken from him—slammed into her. Another thing she’d feel guilty about the rest of her life.
Tom handed her the phone, then wiped his hand over his face. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Ask me anything.” She propped her hands on the back of the couch for support.
“Do you still live in Petoskey?”
“No. I moved to Kalamazoo last year to finish college.” With a semester and a half left of her undergraduate program in accounting, Stephanie could practically taste success. In less than three years, she’d be a successful CPA. A role model. Someone Macy could be proud of. All the struggles she’d been through would be worth it to give Macy a better life.
“So you’re telling me you’ve lived half an hour away and it just occurred to you now to tell me I have a daughter?” He pushed his sleeves up.
“It’s occurred to me every day since I saw two lines on the pregnancy test.” Her ribs ached, but she didn’t dare sit again.
“I can’t believe this.” His voice broke, and his strained face tore her up inside.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry our child has lived without a father her whole life. Or...wait. Let me guess. She hasn’t lived without a father, has she?”
Stephanie couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. The accusation cut, but he had every right to say that to her. Every right. The clock on the wall ticked as she tried to figure out a reply.
“There hasn’t been a man in my life since our divorce. Until last year Macy and I lived with Dad, but he moved to Miami when I went back to school.” Her energy dissolved, and she fought to stay upright.
“I want to see her.” He stood, wide-legged, a fist on each hip.
“Okay, we can figure—”
“I want to see her now.”
“But she—”
“I want to see my daughter today.”
Stephanie’s mind swirled. “She’s in day care for another hour, but, Tom, she doesn’t know any of this.”
“Well, that makes two of us. It’s about time she does.”
“I agree she needs to know. It’s one of the reasons I’m here today. She’s been all over me about daddies and sisters and brothers. I told her she would meet her father when the time was right, and she accepted it. But she’s young. Producing a dad out of the blue... Well, I don’t want to traumatize her.”
“Kind of like when I saw you holding hands with another guy when you told me you were shopping with Tiffany?”
“I crossed a line, but I never cheated on you, Tom.” Her throat burned. Of course he’d throw that in her face. “I don’t want to introduce you to her as her father unless you plan on being a permanent part of her life. She’s not someone you can blow off for work. And you wonder why I didn’t tell you. You hate me.”
“I don’t.” His posture relaxed a fraction.
Did regret shine in his eyes? She doubted it. Telling him about Macy had thrown them right where they’d left off—unable to be together in the same room. Did she dare add their daughter to this unstable mix?
“I just want to see my child.” His tone sounded reasonable.
“I understand. But I’m not freaking her out by springing a dad on her today. The accident yesterday was bad enough.”
“Was she hurt? Is she okay?”
“She has a sprained wrist. Nothing a sling and time won’t heal.” She sighed. She’d gone over all the possibilities, knew there was a chance he’d demand to see Macy right away. Knew, too, he might refuse to allow Macy in his life. What if he met her and decided being a dad wasn’t for him? Stephanie fought back a groan. She owed him the right to make the decision. “Why don’t you meet us at McDonald’s in an hour and a half? We can say you’re an old friend of mine.”
“I’m not lying to her.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to lie to her, either, but do we have to tell her tonight?”
“Fine.” His shoulders dropped. “We’ll do it your way. For now.”
* * *
From the front seat of his truck, Tom glimpsed the golden arches. A hundred years had passed since Stephanie left an hour and a half ago. Seeing her on his porch had brought back all of it—the day they’d met, how quickly he’d fallen in love with her, their short engagement, their shorter marriage.
He hadn’t been enough for her.
Only Stephanie could manage to throw his life off course when he’d finally found a way to get it back on track.
This morning he’d been checking invoices, calling his assistant managers and planning his training session for the day. Forty-two weeks left plenty of time to build strength and endurance for his first IRONMAN competition. And nothing would stop him from finishing in less than twelve hours. The average competitor finished in twelve and a half.
He was done being average.
Signing up for the triathlon had given his life meaning again. Something to strive for. Something to feel proud of.
But this...a child...changed everything.
He closed his eyes. Emotions drained him empty like at the end of a tough workout. And now he had to walk in there and meet his daughter without letting her know who he was. He’d almost called his sister Claire earlier. She knew how to handle these situations. She’d be able to tell him if Stephanie was being reasonable or manipulative. But if he called Claire, he’d have to explain...and he was not ready to tell anyone in his large family he was a father. He might not ever be ready.
God, help me out here? I don’t know what to say. I’ve barely been around kids, and now I’m meeting mine for the first time. What if I mess up? What if I scare her? Maybe Stephanie was right not to tell Macy I’m her dad yet.
Another minute ticked by before he got the nerve to hop out of his truck. Shoving his keys into the pocket of his jeans, he straightened his long-sleeved black T-shirt. He could do this, meet Macy without intimidating her.
Inside, he scanned the busy restaurant to find Stephanie. Typical fast-food sounds surrounded him—the beeps of the registers, the muted chatter of customers waiting in line and the occasional shout of a kid. The place smelled like French fries. His heartbeat paused at the sight of Stephanie sitting next to the little girl with dark brown waves flowing down her back. The child didn’t look up until he stopped at their table.
“Thanks for joining us.” Stephanie’s tone was pleasant, assertive, but she couldn’t mask the uncertainty in her eyes. “Macy, this is an old friend of mine, Tom.”
The girl’s tiny face with creamy skin and raspberry lips stole his breath. Even prettier than her picture. Her faded-blue-jean eyes matched his exactly. It took everything in him not to swoop her up and crush her to him. He knew in an instant he would do anything—anything—for this little girl.
“Hi, Macy. How’s your arm?” He gestured to the black sling and sat across from her at the table. His knee bounced triple time.
“It doesn’t hurt. I don’t need this anymore.” She started ripping the Velcro from her sling, but Stephanie placed her hand over it.
“The doctor said you have to wear it for a few weeks.”
Macy pushed her bottom lip out. “It’s ’noying, Mama.”
“I know. But it’s there for your wrist to heal.”
She grimaced, dunking a chicken nugget into barbecue sauce before taking a nibble. Stephanie’s gaze darted here and there like a wild rabbit’s, and the silence stretched to uncomfortable proportions.
What now? He had no idea what to say to either of them. Didn’t have much experience with kids. Or ex-wives. If he had known—
He could have what? Prepared? Yeah, right.
“Did you want something to eat?” Stephanie’s smile was tight around the edges.
The bruises couldn’t hide her delicate bone structure, the rich brown of her eyes. Her hair was a little shorter than he remembered, but just as dark and shiny. He’d been so caught up in the revelation of having a daughter, he’d barely registered Stephanie until this moment.
“Uh.” He hadn’t eaten since lunch, but he wasn’t hungry, either. “I’m not sure.”
Macy cupped her hand around her mouth as she whispered loudly to Stephanie. “Why is he here if he’s not eating?” Stephanie gave him a pointed look.
What an idiot. Here he was, a strange guy showing up at their meal and not ordering anything. Even a kid knew it was fishy. No wonder Stephanie worried.
“Maybe I’ll get a salad.” He rapped his knuckles on the table.
“Are you sure about that, mister?” Macy frowned. “Salad has lettuce and tomatoes in it. My grandpa always gets a cheeseburger when he comes here.”
He grinned. “I like cheeseburgers and fries, too, but I have to eat healthy.”
“Why?”
“I’m training for a triathlon.”
She munched on a fry. “What’s a...tri...what’d you call it?”
“A triathlon. It’s called the IRONMAN competition.”
“Noah has an Iron Man backpack. Do you get a red suit, too?” Her hopeful expression made him want to tell her yes, he’d be the real Iron Man when he crossed the finish line. But he shook his head.
“No, it’s not that kind of Iron Man. It’s where a bunch of people swim, ride their bikes and run. It’s a race.”
“I have to use training wheels. Tatum has pink sparkly streamers on her bike, but mine doesn’t have any.” The pitiful look she gave her mother almost made Tom chuckle. Cute. He could get used to her matter-of-fact tone and still-developing pronunciation. No, he would get used to it.
“You’re blessed to have a bike at all, Macy.” Stephanie pointed to the Happy Meal. “Keep eating those nuggets.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Do you like swimming, Macy? I live right next to a big lake. My brothers and dad and I go fishing all summer.”
Stephanie’s wary glance speared him, but he kept his attention on Macy.
“My grandpa and I make sand castles at the beach. But Mommy and I moved to a ’partment.” She sipped her chocolate milk. “I’m going to tell Noah about the race. He takes swim lessons, but he’s too scared to jump off the board. Do you think if he jumps in the pool, he could be the Iron Man, too?”
Tom nodded. “Sure. When he gets older. Anyone who finishes the race is an Iron Man.”
“You silly pants, there’s only one.” She wiggled her finger, and her face lit up.
Stephanie ran her hand over Macy’s hair. “The IRONMAN Tom’s talking about isn’t what you’re thinking.”
Best to let Stephanie explain. He went to the register, waited for the salad, then slid back into his seat.
“I’m going to kin-dee-garden when I’m five.” She held out five splayed fingers with her free hand.
“Wow, kindergarten.”
Macy continued, “I can count real high.”
“How high?” He tore the packet of dressing open and watched her out of the corner of his eye.
“Real high. One, two, three...”
When she got to forty-five, Stephanie touched her arm. “Okay, we got it. You’re a good counter.”
“I can go higher,” she said.
“Honey, I have no doubt you could count to a million if you put your mind to it, but we need to finish up dinner and head back home. I have a paper to complete.” Stephanie raised the jacket from the back of her chair and draped it over Macy’s shoulders.
Tom covered his half-eaten salad. What now? Did Stephanie plan on leaving without giving him her contact information? She didn’t think she could just show up, tell him about their daughter and expect life to continue as if nothing happened, did she? This was his child, and whether she liked it or not, he wasn’t disappearing, nor was he going to pretend he was an old friend for long.
“Before I forget, here.” Stephanie slipped him a piece of paper. “My cell number and home phone. After seven is best. I work and go to school. It gets crazy around dinnertime.” She wrangled Macy’s arm into the jacket but couldn’t quite cover the sling. Then she smiled. “Thanks, Tom, for...everything.”
“I’ll be in touch.” He stood, holding his hand out to Macy. “Nice to meet you.”
She took his hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“Till next time.” And he left. In the cool air, his exhilaration and nerves about the meeting seeped out like a leaky tire.
He’d missed more than four years of her life.
He unlocked his truck, got in, raised his gaze to the ceiling and rubbed his jaw.
Macy. Macy Sheffield. He closed his eyes, recalling her sweet face. If only he had a picture of her. What had she looked like as a baby? How had she been? Fussy? No, of course not. Not his darling.
He started the truck, his thoughts racing as the engine rumbled to life. He’d missed her first tooth. First steps. First words.
Were there any firsts left? Had he missed them all?
Checking his mirrors, he backed out of the spot. He wasn’t missing any more of her life. But what would Macy need him for? Nothing came to mind.
What about the streamers? The pink sparkly streamers. Yeah. And piggyback rides. And ice cream. Every kid liked ice cream. He’d let her pretend to drive the cars in the showroom. Owning two auto dealerships had its perks. Take her to baseball games and buy her Barbies and protect her from boys.
He’d be the best dad ever.
And someday he might be able to forgive Stephanie for keeping her from him.
Chapter Two (#ulink_6d4c630d-2804-523c-911c-905522c72e2d)
Stephanie made it home without the expected questions about Tom, mainly by distracting Macy with a Disney CD. Nothing like princesses singing movie tunes to buy a little quiet time. As first meetings went, Stephanie would give tonight five stars. No awkward questions, no heated words, just a man and a little girl getting to know each other. She’d made the right decision to tell Tom about Macy.
After giving Macy a quick bath and getting her into her turtle pajamas, Stephanie sat next to her on the couch and drew a soft purple throw over them both.
“How’s my kitten?” She pulled Macy into her arms.
“I’m not a kitty.” Macy giggled, snuggling closer.
“You’re not? But you’re cute as a kitten. And you purr, right?”
“Prrr...” Macy pretended to lick the back of her hand.
Stephanie’s mind wandered. Seeing Tom brought it all back—how much she’d admired him when she was a twenty-year-old college student. How amazed she’d been that gorgeous, could-have-any-girl Tom Sheffield even noticed her. Twenty-five and with a business degree had made him more alluring. He’d made her feel special, pretty, like someone better than ordinary old her. Six months later when they got married, he promptly quit his dead-end job to join the family business. She soon learned work always came first.
“Is Tom your boyfriend?” Macy curled their fingers together.
The questions had begun. Stephanie stroked Macy’s hair and inhaled the scent of fruity shampoo, so innocent and sweet. “No, no, nothing like that. We were friends a long time ago. He heard we were in an accident and wanted to make sure we were okay.”
“Oh. Why didn’t Grandpa come?”
“Grandpa didn’t know. Remember, he’s in Florida now.”
“I miss him. Let’s go see him.”
“That’s the plan, toots. Less than a year and we’ll be living with Grandpa again. We can go to the beach every day. No snow. No cold. Just sunshine.”
“Yay! I can’t wait to live with Grandpa again.”
“I know. I can’t, either.” As soon as she finished her degree, she and Macy were moving back in with her dad. They’d lived with him in Petoskey until last year when he retired and bought a condo in Miami. She and Macy almost joined him, but Western University offered her a full scholarship only available to single mothers, and the University of Miami wouldn’t give her any financial aid.
Dad had offered to pay, but he couldn’t afford expensive tuition on his fixed income. Besides, Stephanie had foolishly thought she needed to be independent, that it would be good for her to raise Macy on her own.
She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be.
Things would be easier in Miami. She could build a nice life there. Dad would help watch Macy while she worked toward her master’s degree.
Except she’d made the plans before she’d factored Tom into her future...
Macy yawned, and Stephanie hummed. Maybe Macy would fall asleep early. Stacks of folders, books and binders waited on the dining table.
She was tired of homework. And the rush, rush of each day. Get up, shower, slap some makeup on, get Macy dressed, throw a bagel in the toaster, race to day care, then to work. Classes three afternoons. Pick Macy up, stop at the store and spend fifteen minutes trying to figure out dinner, read a picture book, homework, guilt trip about not playing dolls and pass out in bed.
Stephanie closed her eyes a moment. Her life hadn’t always been this hectic. The first months of marriage had been downright leisurely. She’d quit college right after getting engaged. With no real career goals and a low GPA from dropped classes, there didn’t seem to be much point. And she’d had Tom to provide for her.
Ambitious. Driven.
But he’d been tender, protective and...
Absent.
No. No. No.
Pointless to entertain these feelings. Better to focus on the present.
Macy’s breaths came in even intervals, so Stephanie carried her to the bedroom, tucked her in and plodded back to the dining room. Her ribs started aching again.
What to tackle first? The spreadsheet or the research paper? She pressed her fingers against her side, pulled a chair out, propped her elbows on the table and let her chin fall to her cradled hands. Who could focus on a stupid report after seeing him? The man she’d loved, the one she’d vowed to spend the rest of her life with. For better or for worse.
She’d been such a fool at twenty-one. If she had poured her energy into Tom instead of—well, she didn’t want to think about it—maybe she wouldn’t have had to spend the previous years alone, broke and exhausted.
But then there was the God factor. Maybe being at her lowest had finally allowed her to put her hope in Him. How many times had she read in Romans that God works for the good of those who love Him? And how many times did she have to remind herself she didn’t have to earn His goodness? It was there for her simply because she trusted in Jesus as her Savior.
With the Lord’s help, she’d create a future worthy of Macy.
Now that Tom was in the picture, how would their lives be affected? She hadn’t been sure he’d want to be a father—a real father—to Macy. But he obviously did. Could she count on him to be involved in Macy’s life, or would he come and go as it suited him?
He’d stood Stephanie up for countless dates during their brief marriage. How many meals had she eaten alone? When she married Tom, she’d never guessed he’d treat her the way her own mother did—unimportant. An accessory to his life.
It hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut. Still hurt.
If Tom wanted to be a father, he’d better commit all the way. If he broke Macy’s heart...
She was getting ahead of herself. She didn’t know his plans. Besides, Macy deserved to know who her dad was. But how should they break the news to her? And when?
* * *
“What do you mean you have a daughter?” Dad stopped pacing and spun to face Tom.
“What I said. I have a daughter.” Tom extended his arm across the back of the tan couch. He’d called Dad and driven straight to Granddad’s cottage from McDonald’s. “Imagine how I felt coming home from my run and finding Stephanie, all bruised up, on my porch.”
“A car accident, you said? She’s okay?”
“Yeah.”
Dad shook his head slowly, opened his mouth to speak, shut it and snapped his attention to Tom. “I’m a grandfather.”
“You sure are.”
“I have a granddaughter.” Wonder filled his tone. Tom nodded, completely understanding his father’s reaction. “Before I get too ahead of myself, Tommy, we need to consider a few things. I don’t know how to put this...but given what you told us about...well, you know, how can you be sure the girl is yours?”
“I’m sure. Stephanie didn’t cheat on me. I refused to believe her back then, told myself she wanted a future with that other guy, but I was wrong.” Tom crossed to the large picture window with its endless views of the lake lined with evergreens. The familiar landscape of his childhood grounded him. Filled him with resolve he’d lacked earlier. “Macy looks just like me. Undeniable. The eyes. She’s mine.”
“She’s got the Sheffield eyes? Imagine that.” Dad jingled his key ring. His Carhartt jacket, faded baggy jeans and work boots gave him the appearance of a man in his early fifties, not his midsixties. Even his thick silver hair didn’t age him. The man projected energy in motion at all times. “How old did you say she was?”
“Four.” Tom wiped his hand over the back of his neck. The rawness of his discovery had choked him up off and on for the past hour.
“I’m sorry, Tommy. This must be hard to take in. Are you happy about it? At all?”
The concern in his eyes strangled Tom’s throat even more. He coughed. “Yeah, Dad, I’m happy. I mean, a daughter—my daughter. It’s...hard to describe. When I looked at her face and saw how small and cute she was, all I wanted to do was pick her up, buy her the contents of a toy store and protect her from everything that could hurt her. I can’t explain. It was instant.”
“Good. That’s the way it’s meant to be.” Dad nodded. “What did you say her name was?”
“Macy.”
“Macy.” Dad tilted his head to the side. “You know she needs you, right? She needs her father.”
“I know.” The revelations had worn him out, and Tom returned to the couch, his legs splaying and his neck falling back against the cushions. “I still can’t believe Stephanie kept this from me.”
“I can’t, either.” Dad perched on the arm of the chair.
“How could she?” The loss of time with Macy hit him again. “How could she not tell me? I’ve been walking around in a daze all these years when I could have been spending time with my daughter.”
All the wasted weekends, the boring nights, the hours at work—the aimless battery inside him that could have been sparked. If only he’d known.
“It’s hard to understand. It will be harder to forgive.”
Tom let out a dry laugh. “Forgive her? I can’t. This is—”
“The hardest thing you’ll have to do.” Dad leveled the you-know-I’m-right stare he’d perfected years ago. Tom shifted his jaw but listened. “I’m not saying forgiveness has to happen immediately, but anger and bitterness won’t help Macy. Take my advice and give this to God as soon as possible or it will eat you alive.”
It was already eating him alive. And he knew all about regrets and the way they hollowed a person out. The day he’d signed the divorce papers had set in motion a chain of choices he regretted as much as his brief marriage. Now Stephanie and her secrets flooded him with the past he’d fought hard to forget.
“I mean it, Tommy.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking. Forgiving isn’t pretending she didn’t hurt you. I’m not saying you act like nothing happened. Pray for her. Pray for the mother of your child.”
Tom shook his head. His neck was so tight, one more problem and it would snap.
Dad rose, his hand tapping against his thigh. “Do you want what’s best for Macy?”
“Of course.” He glared at him.
“Then find a way to forgive her mother.”
Tom jumped to his feet, his fists balled at his sides. “She didn’t think about me—did she, Dad? It’s common knowledge you don’t see other guys when you’re married!”
Dad moved closer and looked him in the eye. “I’m not taking her side. You have the right to be angry with her. She hurt you. But for Macy’s sake, you’ll have to work on a civil relationship. I don’t know what Stephanie is like anymore, but when you two got married, I saw an insecure girl who had never heard of Jesus and didn’t want to. I prayed for her then. I’m praying for her now.”
Tom ground his teeth together. He spent enough time with his worn Bible each night to know that what Dad said made sense. But it didn’t change the past. Tom would never get those early years with Macy back.
“She robbed me. She robbed me of my daughter. She robbed me of our marriage. You go ahead and pray for her. I’m not.” Even as he said it, Stephanie’s bruised face from earlier came to mind. The way she stood tall and maintained eye contact. Confidence infused her that hadn’t been there before.
The front door opened and his sister Claire breezed inside. “This is a treat. You got here early for once.”
Got here early? No. It couldn’t be Tuesday.
Dinner at the cottage. With the family.
“Uh,” Tom said, grabbing his keys. “I got to go.”
“No. You backed out last week. You’re staying.” She set a huge orange Tupperware bowl on the table. “Besides, Reed and I have barely seen you lately. How’s the training going?”
“Fine.” If he made a break for it, he might be able to skip dinner. But he stayed rooted. “It’s going fine.”
“Are you going to tell her or am I?” Dad raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I can’t keep a secret to save my life.”
Tom’s insides shriveled. It was true. Dad couldn’t keep a secret. He’d blown Sam’s surprise birthday party a mere two months ago. But...tell everyone? Tonight? After the divorce, his siblings had treated him like a trauma patient for months. Did Tom really want to blab the news now?
“What’s going on?” Claire raised an eyebrow. “You two are acting weird.”
If he didn’t say it, Dad would. Tom sighed. “I’ve got some news.”
“What kind of news?” Wariness hung on her words.
“It’s about Stephanie.”
“Are you two getting back together?” She might as well have asked if he was sacrificing animals on the weekend.
“No. Nope.” He shook his head. “No.”
She exhaled loudly, her hand dropping from her lips to her chest. “Oh.”
He furrowed his forehead. That’s how his family viewed Stephanie—as someone Tom should avoid. And why wouldn’t they? He’d bad-mouthed her enough after she left him. Not five minutes ago he’d smeared her past to his dad. He shouldn’t have. He’d worked hard to overcome the bitterness, to own up to his part in their botched relationship.
And the tenderness in Stephanie’s voice when she spoke of Macy, the way she’d tucked Macy’s hair behind her ear at McDonald’s, the fact she’d finally told him he had a daughter? It all tempted him to defend her. Which made no sense. One minute he was furious with her, and now he wanted to shield her?
“I found out—”
“Who’s ready to eat?” Aunt Sally and the rest of the family entered the cottage in their usual noisy fashion. His brother and roommate, Bryan, two years younger than him, then their baby sister, Libby, chattered behind her husband, Jake. His youngest brother, Sam, zoomed straight to the living room and claimed the remote. Claire glided over to her husband, Reed, when he came in. And last but not least, Uncle Joe heaved warmers of food into the kitchen. The large, open living room and kitchen had high ceilings, hardwood floors and comfortable furniture. Felt like home. When Granddad was alive, it practically was home.
Good a place as any to make an announcement. Macy would be part of their lives, too. This cottage, this family—she was part of the Sheffields, and he’d make sure she knew it.
Tom cleared his throat and raised his arms. Everyone turned to him. “Before we eat, I have something to tell you.”
“Can’t it wait until after Aunt Sally’s chicken?” Sam yelled from the couch.
Grinning, Aunt Sally waved her hand. “Let the boy talk.”
The boy. Tom had turned thirty-one this summer. Hardly a boy. His family continued to call him by his childhood nickname, Tommy, although he’d politely reminded them for years that his name was Tom.
“Go ahead, son.” Dad gave a firm nod.
Words chased each other around his brain. “I saw Stephanie earlier.”
“What? If you say you’re getting back together with her...” Libby popped a hand on her hip, her blond ponytail swishing in the process.
“No, I’m not getting back with her.” He glared at her. “She was in a car accident, and she came to the house. She told me...” He searched the sea of faces, full of questions, mostly encouraging, and his mouth went dry. His fingers curled around the edge of a dining chair. “I have a daughter.”
A collective gasp filled the air, then hung there until complete silence suffocated the room.
“A little girl?” Aunt Sally’s expression morphed from shocked to deliriously happy. “Did you hear that, everyone? We have a baby to spoil!”
Picking up on her cue, everyone murmured and nodded, although not nearly as enthusiastic as his aunt.
Dad clapped for silence. “I, for one, can’t wait to meet her.” He turned to face Tom. “We’ll do everything we can to support you and help out.”
His siblings rushed to him.
“When did you find out?” Bryan asked.
“A few hours ago,” Tom said.
“And you’re just accepting her word on this?” Bryan’s tone was accusing.
He drew his shoulders back. “If you have something to say, say it.”
“She ruined your life once, and what do you know? She’s found a way to ruin it again.”
“I don’t consider finding out I have a daughter to be ruining my life.”
Bryan shrugged. “Whatever, man. I’m trying to look out for you.”
“Congratulations.” Sam jostled between them. “I think.”
Libby bumped Sam to the side. “Are you kidding me? I am this close—” she held her finger and thumb a sliver away from each other “—to hunting Stephanie down and telling her what I think—”
“Libby.” Jake tugged on her arm. “Not the time or place.”
She clamped her mouth shut, eyelashes reaching to the ceiling. “Fine.”
Aunt Sally threw her arms around Tom. Then she stepped back and placed her hands on his cheeks, her dangling pumpkin earrings jingling as she grinned. “I’m thanking God extra tonight that He’s led you to your baby. What a blessing.”
The truth of her statement hit him like a kettlebell to the chest. “It is a blessing, isn’t it?”
“The circumstances are less than ideal. I know. I know.” She patted his cheek. “I’ve had bitter times. They can eat away at your soul. As hard as it might be, I hope you’ll try to focus on the positive. What’s the little sweetheart’s name?”
“Macy.”
“Macy,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “What a pretty name. I’m going shopping tomorrow to buy her some outfits.” She drew her palms together. “I’ll just guess at the sizes.”
“She’s four and about this tall.” Tom held his hand above his knee. “If that helps.”
She winked. “It does.”
A yank on his arm got his attention. Claire. “Come on.” She pulled him out to the deck, where the sun had dropped to a glowing mound on the horizon.
Bryan followed them. “Is this a private conversation?” Attitude cut through each word.
Tom’s jaw tightened as he peered at Claire, concerned, then Bryan, livid. “Don’t act like a baby.” He stalked over to the deck rail and peered out at the darkening sky. “I don’t know what to do.”
The sliding door swooshed, and Libby and Sam joined them.
“Of all the rotten things she did to you, this is the worst. I’m shocked, but I shouldn’t be.” Libby drew herself to her full height and shook her head.
“Libby,” Claire warned.
“What?” She turned to Tom. “What if she’s trying to milk you for child support?”
“She didn’t even want me to know.”
“Oh, that’s so much better.”
“Shut up, Libby,” Bryan said.
“Tell us about your daughter.” Claire’s smile was encouraging.
Tom stretched his neck to one side, then the other. He might as well get the basics out of the way. “She’s four. Looks just like me. She’s smart, too. Maybe even a genius.”
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Claire said.
“Since no one else is willing to state the obvious, I will.” Libby jutted her chin out. “Why now? Why did Stephanie decide to tell you today? After all this time? I’ll tell you why. Money. Or babysitting. She’s going to start calling you nonstop, wanting you to watch the kid for her. And then she’ll want you back.”
Libby was wrong. Whatever Stephanie wanted wasn’t free babysitting or child support. But Libby did raise a good point. What were Stephanie’s expectations for him as a father? He wanted to spend time getting to know his daughter—gradually. His training schedule didn’t leave much room. After Christmas, he’d really have to kick it in gear with swimming at the Y and adding miles to his runs each week.
What was he thinking? No race was worth more than his daughter.
Slipping back into mediocrity already.
Not fair. Who said he couldn’t be a dad and have a life? He’d find a way to get to know Macy and train for the race.
“Stephanie wasn’t an ogre, Libby.” Claire steepled her fingers, keeping her tone even. “She made mistakes. We all do.”
“But her mistakes hurt Tommy.” Libby crossed her arms over her chest.
Tom held his hands up. “I don’t know why she finally told me.” The words weren’t easier to say this time. “The accident shook her up. It’s no secret we weren’t right for each other.” Or, rather, he wasn’t right for her. How many times had he replayed their relationship in his mind, trying to figure out how he could have done it all differently?
“That’s a bunch of baloney.” Libby shook her head. “Half the women in this county would rob the Snack-N-Go to have a shot at marrying you. She blew it.”
“I blew it, too, Libs.” It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud. Over the years, he’d accepted his responsibility in their divorce, but he’d never told anyone. Stephanie’s confession gave him the courage to make his own. “She wasn’t the only one to blame. You know the saying ‘It takes two’? In our case, it’s true.”
The breeze made a shushing noise in the trees, and Bryan moved to stand beside him. “What are you going to do now?”
Tom lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know.”
“You fighting for custody?” Bryan asked.
“I’m not going to walk away, if that’s what you’re asking. But I...don’t know.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Claire said. “You’ll be a terrific dad.”
“You know what this means,” Sam said. “You’ll be in Stephanie’s life again.”
Tom fought a wave of helplessness, the same feeling that kept gushing up when he thought about spending time with Macy. Sam was right. He wouldn’t be able to avoid Stephanie. Was he ready to be a part of her life again? Especially not as her husband? What if she was dating someone? He had limits, and being a bystander to his ex-wife’s love life went way beyond them. Seeing her again, being near her...messed with his resolve to protect his heart.
“Hey.” Claire placed her hand on his sleeve. “Don’t worry. I’m going to pray hard for you. I’m upset you’re finding out about Macy now, but you’re a dad. That’s good! I can’t wait to meet this little girl. I know she’ll be fabulous. She has our genes, right?”
He straightened, not knowing what to say. Dusk blanketed them, and lights across the lake popped on, reflecting thin beams zigzagging on the water. Each of his siblings’ faces turned to him with varying expressions. Claire, tender and concerned. Sam, indifferent. Libby, skeptical, and Bryan, fierce.
“Whatever you need,” Claire said. “We’re here for you.”
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the number. Didn’t recognize it. “Hello?”
“Tom?” Stephanie’s voice rang through. “Do you think you could come over tomorrow?”
* * *
Tom pressed the intercom and shifted the enormous white stuffed rabbit complete with pink bow to his other arm. The old apartment complex a mile from campus didn’t exactly look seedy, but brown paint peeled from the exterior, bare spots riddled the patches of grass and potholes and cracks dismembered the pavement. He shifted his jaw. College students didn’t mill about—a relief—but the junky cars had him questioning the neighbors. Was his daughter safe living here? Was Stephanie?
The door buzzed, and he stepped inside. Soiled, worn indoor/outdoor carpet greeted him. A half flight of stairs stood at his right, a hallway with closed doors to his left. The scent of laundry detergent mingled with spices—foreign, curry? He climbed the stairs, turned, jogged up another set and landed on the third floor.
Stephanie ushered him inside. “Thanks for coming.” She dead-bolted the door behind him and nodded at the stuffed animal. “Macy will love this. Why don’t you have a seat?”
She waved to the small living room to his right. White walls, an old forest green couch, an upholstered rocking chair covered with a quilt and a bin of toys furnished the room. Lamps glowed, and the end tables held neat stacks of children’s books. Sheer curtains flanked a glass door leading to a balcony. Not luxurious but welcoming enough.
“Can I get you something to drink?” She flitted to the tiny kitchen and opened the fridge. Her jeans and slouchy lavender sweater made her appear younger, more beautiful than he remembered. Or was it her expression? The Stephanie who’d walked out on him rarely smiled, always nibbled on the corner of her lip and had a nervous air. This woman reminded him of the Steph he fell in love with.
Don’t go there. Focus on now. On Macy.
“Water would be good.” He set the bunny on the floor and lowered his tall frame onto the couch. “Where’s Macy?”
She returned with two glasses of ice water and set one on a coaster next to him before sitting in the rocking chair and tucking one foot under her body. “She’s still at day care. I wanted to talk to you in private.”
Warmth pooled through his core. She wanted to talk to him? In private? He straightened and shifted forward. “What about?”
A crease grew in her forehead. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Libby’s words sang in his mind, She’s going to start calling you nonstop. She’ll want you back. The thought wasn’t as unwelcome as it should be.
“I guess I thought...” She blinked twice. Enticing brown eyes. “You acted like you wanted to get to know Macy.”
His jaw relaxed. Dummy. Stephanie didn’t want him—still didn’t want him. “I do.”
“Of course.”
Was she disappointed? If yes, why had she invited him over?
She stood next to the balcony door, staring outside. “I don’t want Macy to be caught in our problems the way I was with Mom and her husbands.”
“Well, I’m not like them.”
“True.” She tapped her chin with her finger. “From my experience, though, lots of adults don’t think about their kids in these situations. They give in to their petty dramas, not caring who they hurt. I’d move mountains to protect Macy.”
“So I didn’t even get a chance?”
“We’ve been over this. Your parting words, the whiplash speed of the divorce papers and my own experience in a split home forced me to make a decision. The wrong one, obviously.”
Tom stared at a stain in the carpet. The night she left rushed back. He could still feel the blood churning in his veins. Tears streaked her face as she told him there was nothing between her and that guy, that she wasn’t cheating and would never cheat on him. But his vision had blurred and all he could see was her holding hands with the jerk. He’d lost all trust in her. Refused marriage counseling. Rushed to the lawyer for a divorce.
Hotheaded. Since then he’d worked hard to tame his impulsive side.
She picked at her sleeve. “I know what it’s like to be neglected by a parent who doesn’t want you.”
“You think I would neglect my own child?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know. Honestly, Tom, I felt very neglected in our marriage.”
He grabbed the glass of water and drank. It didn’t surprise him to hear those words, but they hurt. The truth hurt.
“Macy’s my whole world,” she said. “It hasn’t been easy doing this on my own.”
The sadness in her eyes tore at his conscience, but sympathizing would get him in trouble. The kind of trouble that started with forgiveness and ended with... “That was your choice. To do it on your own.”
“You act like I wanted to get pregnant and live with my dad.”
A retort begged to come out, but he counted to three. “Well, what’s done is done. I want to tell Macy I’m her dad. I’m ready to be her father now.”
“This isn’t all about you. Think about her.”
He leaned back, at a complete loss for words. He had agreed to her charade last night, and now she wanted to continue it? Not going to happen. If she refused to bend about this, he’d call his lawyer. Work out a visitation schedule where he could have Macy to himself.
“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I pass.” He stood, flexing his hands. “I’m Macy’s father. I’m telling her, I’m spending time with her and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_8c455227-eeb1-5d9c-9276-4adc83cb1c07)
“Wait. Tom—” Stephanie rushed to him, blocking his path.
What was wrong with her? She knew better than to come out guns firing, and yet she had. If she wasn’t careful, blame would get tossed back and forth like a twisted game of hot potato. She summoned every ounce of patience and lifted her chin.
“Please sit down.” She sighed. “I didn’t call you here to fight. And I don’t expect you to believe it, but I’ve changed. Part of that change has been trying to become someone trustworthy.”
He lifted his eyebrows but sat.
“Before you take matters into your hands,” she continued, “would you agree to spend some time with Macy first?”
“Is this a trick?” His gaze dropped to the stuffed bunny.
“No, it’s not a trick. Think about it.” She smoothed her sweater over her hips. Tom didn’t know Macy, didn’t know she sang “I Am Jesus’ Little Lamb” before bed each night, loved noodles, hated peas, refused to wear socks with stripes and wouldn’t brush her teeth unless she could use her Oscar the Grouch toothbrush. Learning those details took time.
“Why should I?” he asked.
Of all the clueless things to say. The response was so Tom, she had to bite back a retort. But she wasn’t surprised. He wanted his daughter now, whether Macy was ready or not. Why would he bother to get to know anyone—his daughter included—when he’d made zero effort to get to know his own wife?
Stephanie returned to the chair and sat. “It would be easier if she felt comfortable with you before telling her you’re her dad.” She waited for him to disagree and storm out, but he lifted his gaze to hers. Nervous. Scared?
Impossible. Not him.
“I think you’re right.” He grimaced, ducking his chin.
Wait, had he just told her she was right? She almost did a double take.
“Good,” she said. “I don’t think it will take long, either. She’s a wonderful girl.”
“I know she is.” His chest puffed out.
Another surprise. Tom already put Macy on a pedestal. Stephanie’s heart lifted a little at the thought. Sharing Macy with Tom wouldn’t be horrible if Stephanie knew her baby was loved. But she still had a lot of questions to clear up first. “If we’re going to do this, we should probably catch up so there aren’t any misunderstandings.”
Tom frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Um.” She opened her palms, unsure how to continue. “I guess we should know what we’re getting into, like get up to speed on each other’s lives. What’s your schedule like? Do you have a girlfriend? That sort of thing.”
The look on his face screamed “get me out of here.” She quickly continued, “I’ll start it off. I work full-time as a receptionist for a dentist nearby, and I’ll have my bachelor degree in accounting this spring. I plan on getting my master’s degree, too. I...actually, I—” She stalled, not ready to mention Florida. Hadn’t Dad always warned her not to poke the bear? She’d wait to tell Tom, when they could spend at least five minutes being civil to each other.
“Are you trying to tell me you have a boyfriend?” He barked out the words, but he didn’t seem angry. No, the way he flicked his thumb against his finger wasn’t anger. She’d seen Tom in many moods, but this wasn’t one of them. She peeked at his hands again. Could he be vulnerable?
With a quick shake of her head, she said, “No.”
“What is it, then?” He met her eyes, and she got lost in their beauty. Look away!
One thing Tom had always pressured her to do when they were married was attend church with him, but she never had. Not once. She wasn’t ready to share her Florida plans yet, but maybe Tom deserved to know about more than just her career plans and nonexistent love life. “I’m a believer now. Been attending church for two years. Macy, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Turns out you were right. I needed a savior.” She shuddered to think what her life would be like without God. He got her through each day, filled her with peace when life got chaotic, comforted her when she doubted her actions.
He lightly clasped his hands in his lap. “Don’t we all.”
They stared at each other a moment, a ray of understanding between them. The man on her couch resembled the Tom she’d married, but he seemed more complex. Tempted her to unravel the mystery and find out who he’d become. She shook her head. Good thing she’d earned a black belt in avoiding temptation.
“While we’re putting our lives out there, I need to know something.” He cleared his throat, lowered his gaze. “Has Macy had a man in her life?”
“Just my dad.” She blinked. “No boyfriends.”
“What about, well, you know?”
“Aaron?” She waved dismissively. “No. I don’t expect you to believe this, but when you confronted me about him, it changed my life.”
“It changed mine, too.” His gruff tone filled the air. She wanted to touch him, comfort him. But she’d forfeited that right years ago.
“I saw Aaron for what he was—a lonely, insecure guy who got a kick out of pursuing an off-limits woman. And I guess I saw myself for what I was, too. I’d been playing the victim. I needed to take responsibility for my life. I don’t blame you for hating me. And I don’t expect you to ever forgive me.”
“I told you I don’t hate you. It’s been a long time. I’m over it.”
“Good.” She tried to smile, but her heart caved in. It shouldn’t hurt, hearing his dismissal, but it did. “Have you found someone new?”
“No.” He shook his head. “The single life is for me.”
She blew out a breath, relief trickling to her gut. He was single. Not that it meant anything to her—it was just better for Macy. Stephanie couldn’t handle the thought of a jealous girlfriend making Macy miserable. Although, a woman getting close to her daughter left a sour taste in her mouth, too. Complications piled up in her mind. She tossed them away. “Still working at the dealership?”
He nodded. “I own two of them.”
“Good for you.” Two dealerships. Twice the amount of work. Double the hours? She hoped not.
Silence lingered, made her fidget. What else was there to say? A lot, actually, but none of it really mattered. Except the one thing she hadn’t yet clarified. The one thing Tom was bound to fight her on.
“So, I have an idea how we can do this.” She drew her palms together, her chin resting on her fingertips.
He narrowed his eyes. “Do what?”
“Spend time together—the three of us—to make Macy feel comfortable with you.”
His lips tugged downward as if he’d bitten into a Sour Patch Kids candy. “The three of us?”
“Until she’s used to you. Then we can figure out a way to tell her you’re her dad. Work out a visitation schedule.”
She waited for his outburst, his objection. He stared at the window a moment, then met her eyes.
“Okay, but I’m not waiting forever.” He raked his hand through his hair. “How does Saturday afternoon work for you?”
* * *
Ridiculous.
He’d accepted her terms without a fight. Tom merged his truck onto the highway, cranking a Keith Urban song louder.
Who was he kidding? All the fight had left him when she’d walked out five years ago. It had happened so quickly. They’d met, gotten engaged, been married and divorced in just over a year. He’d been coasting ever since.
Not true. He’d stopped drifting when he’d started training. He pressed on the accelerator. He’d already added three miles to his hardest runs. Given up pop and junk food. This race was worth pushing himself for. It had to be.
Years of being stuck in the past, of being convinced he wasn’t enough, had taken its toll. Regrets and blame roared through his gut. The blame he’d gotten through with the help of his Bible. But the regrets?
He hadn’t been a good husband. So wrapped up in his new responsibilities of managing Dad’s car dealership, he’d worked seventy-hour weeks and ignored his bride. She was right about that. He had neglected her.
He’d loved her. And he’d blown it. Hadn’t paid attention to the signs, but in hindsight, they’d been there. She’d cooked special meals he never showed up for. Worse, he’d barely thanked her. And, on more than one occasion, he’d lost track of time reviewing reports when he was supposed to meet her at a restaurant or the movies. He’d ignored her sadness and basically acted as if marriage was all about him.
It didn’t excuse her, though. She’d lied, went behind his back and gotten close with another guy. But what had she said just now? About seeing that jerk for who he was—a lonely scuzzball? Maybe she hadn’t put it in those words, but she might as well have. He grinned for a moment, and then a slew of questions about his future assaulted him.
The exit he normally took came and went, and within minutes he found himself at the zoo gate where Claire worked. He texted her. Meet me out front? I need to talk.
He should be driving home, lacing up his shoes and hitting the pavement. Should be acting as if what happened today didn’t matter. But a feeling of caving in, of losing—what, he didn’t know—coursed through his body.
His phone dinged. I’ll be there in five minutes.
Five minutes. Too long. The taste in his mouth turned to copper.
Maybe he hadn’t caved in. And he certainly hadn’t lost anything. He’d let Stephanie have her plan because...
He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to be a dad.
“There you are.” Claire sailed through the gate and gave him a hug. “How did it go? Did she love the bunny?”
“I’m not sure.” He led Claire to a bench. Seeing her in the khaki pants and polo shirt with her name embroidered on it always filled him with pride. His sister had wanted to work for the zoo since she was a little kid. Her dream finally came true this year. Some people’s dreams did anyway. “I didn’t see her.”
“What?” Claire’s stricken face matched her tone. “Why?”
“Stephanie thinks we should ease Macy into this.”
“Oh, like you get to know her before telling her you’re her dad?”
He nodded. Claire made it sound reasonable.
“Makes sense to me,” she added. “Does it bother you so much?”
“Not that. She wants to be there, too.”
“Who? Stephanie?” The corners of her lip curled down and she shrugged. “Might be smart.”
“You think so?” He clung to the thought.
“Yeah.” She brushed a piece of straw off her pants. “Think about it. If you’re a four-year-old girl, would you want to spend time with some strange man if your mom isn’t around? You’d likely terrify her, no offense.”
“None taken.” He hadn’t pursued that angle before. His apprehension lightened. “But it’s hard.”
“I know. It is hard. Spending time with your ex-wife is hard.”
“I worry— Never mind.” Spending time with Stephanie was difficult because she reminded him of the dreams he’d tucked away. Before they got married, he’d had a plan. Make the dealership a success, buy a house, start a family. Except he’d failed. He jerked his head to the side. The sun warmed his face. He didn’t dare say what he was thinking out loud.
Claire touched his arm. “Are you worried about her hurting you again?”
How did Claire always cut to the heart of it?
He nodded.
“Tommy, Aunt Sally once asked me if I believed I’m always divinely guided, and I told her yes. Do you know what she said to me after?”
He shook his head.
“She told me I would always take the right turn in the road. I believe that. Now you’ll have to ask yourself the same question.”
The clouds feathered across the sky as he pondered what she said. Divinely guided, yes. But did he always take the right turn in the road? No. He’d made too many wrong turns to believe it.
“I was kind of glad Stephanie suggested taking it slow. I’m not ready to be alone with my own kid. I have no idea what little girls like to do, what they need, what they eat. I’m clueless, Claire.” Plus, he was drawn to Stephanie, not that he’d ever admit it. Would he get lost in another thankless relationship with her? Where he’d end up the loser again?
She laughed. “You’re going to be great. Macy will love you. Just take lots of notes on how Stephanie handles things. And when you’re in doubt, ask Macy what she likes.”
He didn’t voice the other concern spinning around his head. What if he spent time with them and realized he was a terrible dad? That Macy was better off without him in her life?
“Something else is on your mind,” Claire said. “I can see it.”
She knew him well, but he wasn’t ready to confide in her. “I finally got the guts to sign up for something I’d been thinking about for years, and this situation could end it.”
“You’re not going to quit training. This race is too important to you, so don’t even go there. We’ll keep you on track. And I get you’d be nervous about...this situation—about Stephanie. You don’t have to explain. You sprinted through the whole relationship, and she’s, what, five years younger than you? You two weren’t ready for marriage, and it’s not as if you’re dating again—you’re spending time together so you can be the dad you were meant to be.”
The words sprinkled over him, shedding a layer of guilt he’d thought he’d eliminated. “Thanks, Claire.” Hanging out with Stephanie and Macy would give him the skills he needed to be a good father. He’d have to keep reminding himself.
And if not?
He wouldn’t think about it. He’d be a good parent. Period.
Claire grinned. “You realize what this means, right?”
He frowned. “No clue.”
“You’re going to have to break the news to Aunt Sally she won’t be meeting Macy yet.”
* * *
“Come on.” Stephanie pulled Macy by the hand through the parking lot of Johnson’s Pumpkin Patch Saturday afternoon. Cars and trucks crawled along the lane until a flagger directed them to park in a field. She scurried through the couples as best as she could.
Boy, it was busy. Laughter, conversation and the occasional squeal punctured the festive atmosphere. Attracted to the sweetness of the nearby apple trees, bees swarmed about the picnic tables she passed. The sun shone hot on her face, and she drank in the aroma of homemade doughnuts. Cinnamon. Her stomach grumbled.
Macy’s hand began to slip from her fingers, but she gripped it tighter. “We’re late, so please walk faster.”
“Why are we meeting him here, Mommy?” Macy whined, each step deliberately slow. Her sling tapped against her little chest to the rhythm of their movements. “Why didn’t we come, just us?”
Stephanie inwardly sighed. Between working full-time, all the hours spent at school, then hunching over homework each evening, she understood why Macy clung to her when they were together. Even when they went to the park, Macy never ran off to play with other kids. She wanted her mom all to herself.
“Because it’s good to have friends.” Stephanie beamed. Maybe her lame answer would put a stop to more questions. If the guilt about not telling Tom was bad, the guilt about not giving Macy a father was worse.
“Don’t want no more friends.” Macy’s knees inched higher as she marched.
“Don’t be silly. Everyone wants friends. You like Tatum at preschool, right? And Josie at day care.”
Macy dug her heels in and yanked back. Now what?
“You don’t need more friends. You have me.” Her glistening eyes pleaded with Stephanie.
She knelt and tweaked Macy’s nose. “Of course I have you. And we’re best friends. But I’m your mom, too. And we both can have other friends.”
“I don’t like him.” Her lower lip bulged.
“Why not?” Why would Macy already not like Tom? She’d seemed fine with him at McDonald’s.
In her pink fleece jacket and pigtails riding high on her head, Macy bobbed her chin and scrunched her face up into a major pout. “I’m not going.”
Stephanie straightened. Not now. A temper tantrum when they were already running late? Couldn’t one thing in her life be easy? Just once?
“You are going.” She put her stern tone on. “This isn’t your decision. We’re meeting Tom here, picking out pumpkins, and you will use your manners.”
Macy stomped her foot.
“That is unacceptable, Macy. Do you hear me?”
Macy’s nose soared, defiance radiating out of her.
Patience. Give me patience.
Might be time for a change of tactic. An act of desperation, surely, and not one any parenting expert would condone, but something had to be done. “I thought you wanted a doughnut. If you forget your manners, you will not get one.”
“I want a doughnut!” Macy’s eyes widened.
“Well, then, you’ll have to behave.”
A moment passed before Macy sighed. “Yes, Mommy.”
Stephanie reached for her hand again. They hustled toward the big barn converted to a country store. Macy oohed over an orange cat running by, and Stephanie craned her neck to see through the clusters of people. Tom’s tall, athletic frame rounded the corner, and her pulse thumped, then sped up. His easy smile? Just like when they first met. In a navy blue pullover and jeans, he attracted several female stares, yet he appeared oblivious to the admiration. She tightened her hold around Macy’s hand.
“Ouch, Mommy.”
“Sorry.” All worked up over six feet of strapping male. And why not? They’d been good together, once upon a time.
He squatted in front of Macy, grinned and held out his hand. “I believe we met already, Miss Macy. How are you doing today? Are you ready to pick out a pumpkin?”
Macy hesitated, but she eventually shook his hand, her eyes stony.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like pumpkins?” He righted himself to a standing position.
Stephanie nudged her.
“They’re all right.” Macy sounded as enthused as she did when she had to get a booster shot.
“Thanks for meeting us here, Tom.” Stephanie plastered her widest smile on. “Why don’t we mosey out to the field? Which patch is the best, do you think?”
With questions in his eyes, he glanced at Macy, who was now picking at her sling. “Looks like a lot of people are headed that way.” He pointed to a lane where kids ran ahead, moms pushed strollers and dads toted young boys or girls on their shoulders.
“Do you want a ride, Macy?” He tapped his shoulders.
She shook her head, pigtails slapping the sides of her face.
“Okay.” He frowned.
Stephanie considered pulling him aside to explain, but what could she say? Macy isn’t really a brat. She’s acting like one because she doesn’t want to share me. Yeah, that would sound great. Stephanie did the best she could as a single mom, and sometimes it wasn’t good enough. When she’d lived with Dad, it hadn’t been as bad. He played with Macy while Stephanie tackled a term paper. He soothed the tension when her patience vanished.
She peeked at her daughter, clutching her hand. How would Tom fall in love with Macy if she acted like a sullen statue?
They made their way to the lane. Ducks flew overhead in a V formation, and a line of trees swished in the light wind.
“So what have you been up to?” Stephanie forced a cheery tone. “How is your family?”
His sharp glance ratcheted her nerves. “They’re good. Claire got married this summer, Libby earlier this year. Bryan and I run all the dealerships, and we share a house. Sam took over as CEO of Sheffield Auto last fall.”
“Your dad retired?”
“Yes and no.” He chuckled. “He retired from the auto business to be a superintendent for my brother-in-law. Dad is in construction now.”
“I always liked Dale.” She stepped over a tree root bumping out of the ground. “I could see him in construction. He’s got a lot of energy.”
“When my grandpa retired, he had a big party. He has lots of energy, too,” Macy said with a shade of snottiness.
“Good.” Tom nodded. “I’m sure he enjoyed his party.”
“He did. We got him floaty balloons and everything.” She picked up her pace, shoulders wiggling with her determined stride.
“I miss my grandpa. He taught me how to tie ropes and build birdhouses. We went out on his fishing boat all summer. I wish he was still around.”
“Where did he go?” For the first time since arriving, her voice wasn’t dripping with attitude.
“Heaven. He died a while back.”
“I’m going to heaven, too.” She jabbed her chest with her thumb. “My Sunday school teacher told me so.”
Tom grinned down at her. The most patient, loving expression crossed his face. Stephanie almost gasped. Loving, yes. But patient? She sifted through her memories. He’d always been quick with a reply. Time must have mellowed him. But maybe that wasn’t fair on her part. Could she say she truly knew him when they were only together a year?
He tugged one of Macy’s pigtails. “Well, you keep listening to your Sunday school teacher.”
“Mommy’s going to heaven. Aren’t you?”
“Yes. And Tom is, also.”
“No, he’s not.” Macy shook her head and laughed.
“Macy, that’s a very mean thing to say.” Stephanie halted.
“But—”
“No buts. All believers go to heaven. You know that.”
“You mean I have to share you there, too?” she wailed. “I don’t want to go anymore.”
Stephanie dreaded looking at Tom, but she had to. His curious expression reassured her. “Will you excuse us a minute, please?”
He nodded.
She marched Macy to the side of the lane and kept her voice low. “Why did you say that, Macy? Do you know you hurt his feelings?”
“I don’t care.” Her cheeks drooped. “Heaven isn’t for him. It’s for us. It’s our girl place.”
“It’s not our girl place. We will be together, but everyone else who trusted in God will, too. You wouldn’t want to leave anyone out of heaven, would you?”
Macy bowed her head and dragged her tennis shoe back and forth in the dirt.
“Answer me, Macy.”
“I want to go home.”
Clenching her hands into fists, Stephanie waited until her nerves calmed before answering. “Fine. I’ll take you home. I’ll call the sitter. You can stay there, but I’m coming back to pick out pumpkins with Tom.”
That got her attention. Macy wrapped her arms around Stephanie’s legs. “No! I want to stay. He can go to heaven, too.”
“It’s not your decision if he goes to heaven or not. You owe him an apology.”
“But, Mama—”
“No buts.” Stephanie led Macy back to the lane. “Macy has something to say to you. Don’t you?”
“I’m sorry.” The muffled words barely were out before she started sobbing.
Stephanie wrapped her in a hug and kissed her head. “I know apologizing was hard, but you did the right thing.”
Macy pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Do I still get a doughnut?”
“It depends.” Stephanie darted a glance Tom’s way and mouthed, “Sorry.” Then she moved forward. “Let’s try over there. I see a big pumpkin with your name all over it.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_7d79d893-e2ad-53cb-b300-da296bbdc975)
Thankfully, her lunch break had finally arrived. The phones had been ringing nonstop all morning, and if Stephanie had to argue with one more insurance rep about covering a porcelain filling, she was going to rip the phone out of the wall. There wasn’t enough chocolate in the world for Mondays like this.
Bea, the other receptionist at the dentist office, had invited her to eat at their favorite deli. As they crossed the parking lot to get into Bea’s sporty black car, Bea chatted about her upcoming vacation plans.
“You sure have been quiet. Are you feeling okay?” Bea asked. Her chic white bob and subtle makeup matched her warm, intelligent personality. Stephanie considered her more of a worldly-wise aunt than a coworker.
“I’m fine. A little stressed.” As the car merged with traffic, Stephanie relaxed into the seat. At least the sun was shining. The day wasn’t completely bad. “Every time I answer the phone it’s a crisis.”
“Tell me about it.” She chuckled and peeked over. “A little green is peeking out from your bruise again. Remind me to touch it up with my concealer stick when we return.” She braked for a traffic light. “What are you going to do about your car?”
“Insurance is supposed to cut me a check this week. My old one wasn’t worth much, so I’ll have to find a used car in a limited price range.” Another to-do on an already crowded list. If only Dad was here. He’d help her pick out a vehicle. He’d check it over and tell her if it had major problems. She missed him. Missed having someone to rely on.
“How’s Macy doing?”
“Her wrist hurts, but she’s convinced she doesn’t need the sling. You know how kids are.” They sped past apartment buildings, fast-food joints, the pharmacy and a grocery store before coming to a stop at the bustling sandwich shop.
Since moving to Kalamazoo, Stephanie hadn’t told anyone about Tom, but she longed to confide in someone. And she appreciated Bea’s faith-filled perspective, something Dad lacked. She’d tried to get him to attend church with her, but he’d never been interested. Moving here and meeting Bea had given her a Christian shoulder to cry on, not that she did very often. But now she needed help—emotional and advice-wise.
After ordering subs and sodas, they found a table in the corner next to a window. Bea opened her sandwich to look it over before taking a bite, but Stephanie left hers wrapped next to her.
“I have to tell you something, and I’m really nervous about it.” Stephanie folded her hands, clutching them tightly. Questions swirled in Bea’s hazel eyes. “I think we’re good enough friends that you won’t hold this against me, but if you don’t want to talk to me after this, I understand.”
“We’re not in high school.” Bea flung a stray onion off her cheese, closed the bun and bit into it. “Nothing you could say would kill our friendship. I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”
Nothing like this. Stephanie drew her shoulders back. “I used to be married. Five years ago, to be exact. The whole romance whizzed by quicker than a Michigan spring. Within six months of saying ‘I do,’ we split up. During the divorce, I found out I was pregnant, but the way things ended... I didn’t think he’d ever want to see me again.”
Bea’s sandwich hovered next to her mouth. Stephanie didn’t know what to say. Then Bea blinked and made a rolling gesture with her arm. “Well, go on.”
Her teeth chattered. “Everything fell apart that year. I dropped out of school before the wedding. My college friends—the same ones I’d had all through high school—wanted me to hang out and party with them. Tom was working his way up at his dad’s company and had no time for me. I spent more and more evenings with my friends and their friends, and one friend in particular. He listened. Looked at me like I was somebody. Made me feel less lonely. We started meeting on our own. I justified it, telling myself Tom wasn’t paying attention to me, that it didn’t hurt anyone because we were just talking. But Tom drove into the city one day, and he saw us holding hands.”
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