Reuniting His Family
Jean C. Gordon
A Father’s PromiseRhys Maddox wants nothing more than custody of his two sons. Released from prison after a wrongful charge, the widowed dad will do anything to bring his boys home where they belong. But that doesn't include falling for their former social worker. Now leading an outreach program for families in transition, Renee Delacroix can't escape the tall, dark and intriguing single dad…or his adorable little boys. But Rhys is determined to go at it alone. Until one incident that may cost him what he wants the most. Now it's up to Renee to save him…if she can make him see she's just what he needs to complete their forever family.
A Father’s Promise
Rhys Maddox wants nothing more than custody of his two sons. Released from prison after a wrongful charge, the widowed dad will do anything to bring his boys home where they belong. But that doesn’t include falling for their former social worker. Now leading an outreach program for families in transition, Renee Delacroix can’t escape the tall, dark and intriguing single dad...or his adorable little boys. But Rhys is determined to go it alone. Until one incident that may cost him what he wants the most. Now it’s up to Renee to save him...if she can make him see she’s just what he needs to complete their forever family.
“Look, Dad, it’s her!”
What was Renee doing here? Filling in for another volunteer, she told him when she entered the amusement park.
So he wasn’t the only one she helped in her job.
Seeing the way Renee smiled down at his sons told him he wanted to be more than part of her job.
“Hey, Dad, can I go with my friends and our teacher?” Owen asked.
Rhys bit back the no that sprang to his lips and stifled his disappointment. His son would have more fun with his friends, and that was what this day was about.
“How about you, Dylan?” he asked his other boy. “Do you want to go with your friend?”
“No. I like being with Miss Renee. It’s kind of like being with Mommy.”
Rhys swallowed hard. In some ways, it was how things might have been for Dylan in their family if he hadn’t messed up. In other ways, it wasn’t at all the same. He and Renee... He didn’t know what their relationship was. But one thing was certain. He wanted to find out.
Dear Reader (#u1f39d4e9-613b-5542-a069-9dee9628c74c),
Thank you for choosing to read Reuniting His Family. I hope you enjoyed Rhys and Renee’s story and, if you’ve read my other Love Inspired books, returning to Paradox Lake and catching up with other residents.
We’re all shaped by our pasts. In Renee’s case, it’s having grown up the youngest in her large, loving, extended family, and her experience doing mission work in Haiti. For Rhys, it’s having been shuffled from foster family to foster family and his brushes with the law. Too often, we let preconceived notions generated by our pasts hinder the happiness our Lord wants for us. But, as Renee and Rhys show, with His help we can move beyond those notions.
To keep in touch with me, please sign up for my author newsletter at JeanCGordon.com (http://jeancgordon.com/). And feel free to email me at JeanCGordon@gmail.com or snail mail me at PO Box 113, Selkirk, NY 12158. You can also visit me at Facebook.com/JeanCGordon.author (https://www.facebook.com/JeanCGordon.Author/) or Tweet me @JeanCGordon (https://twitter.com/jeancgordon).
Blessings,
Jean C. Gordon
JEAN C. GORDON’s writing is a natural extension of her love of reading. From that day in first grade when she realized t-h-e was the word the, she’s been reading everything she can put her hands on. Jean and her college-sweetheart husband share a 175-year-old farmhouse in Upstate New York with their daughter and her family. Their son lives nearby. Contact Jean at Facebook.com/jeancgordon.author (http://www.Facebook.com/jeancgordon.author) or PO Box 113, Selkirk, NY 12158.
Reuniting His Family
Jean C. Gordon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Lord takes care of those
who are as helpless as children.
When I was in great need, He saved me.
—Psalms 116:6
To my critique partners, Chris and Bonnie,
for aiding my research for this book with
their invaluable knowledge of the New York State
foster care, family court and social services system.
Contents
Cover (#u8dee065e-8e91-5117-8c4c-33cc1a6a207d)
Back Cover Text (#u39e863b3-addd-5fb6-8954-564aecfe40a5)
Introduction (#u26e7c21d-a96d-5426-a66f-53c2031ce216)
Dear Reader (#u0fdea159-b75e-53b2-8504-c0671d72cc30)
About the Author (#u11f88b4a-bbd1-5744-b7ec-64405b1f7f9b)
Title Page (#uce3f2702-d683-517b-bb10-6c57aa0e68fd)
Bible Verse (#u57746c95-5e6e-52c9-831b-52bb90650578)
Dedication (#ud5e822d6-5716-5e09-a251-384e1fc5fd3c)
Chapter One (#u490bd4cb-dc59-51a1-a6e1-63f1d89cb892)
Chapter Two (#u964b7264-112b-54dc-825b-73c3d0815f49)
Chapter Three (#u5cdd06c1-f9ce-5b49-9c0f-4c2f38545b20)
Chapter Four (#u1fe08518-a3a4-5894-bb7c-118bcd01a102)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u1f39d4e9-613b-5542-a069-9dee9628c74c)
Rhys Maddox looked across the small room at his broken dream. The dream he’d shattered. His boys stood in the doorway with a woman who wasn’t their mother. Owen was a miniature copy of himself. Dylan had so many of his mother’s features, it made his heart bleed.
“Mr. Maddox?”
He looked at Renee Delacroix, the Essex County Child Protection Services’ worker he’d been sitting with.
“This is Suzanne Hill, Owen and Dylan’s foster mother,” she said.
Rhys strangled the shudder that began when the word foster formed on Ms. Delacroix’s lips. Those memories were behind him and would be behind his boys soon, too. He stood and offered the woman his hand, glad for the opportunity to break away from Ms. Delacroix’s scrutiny and the knowledge that she stood between him and his sons.
“Mrs. Hill,” he said, warmed by her wholesome freshness, a contrast to Ms. Delacroix’s glacial beauty. “It’s good to meet you in person.”
“Suzi, please,” she said, smiling.
“Suzi, then.”
Today’s half hour with the Child Services’ worker was his second meeting with Ms. Delacroix since he’d come to Paradox Lake to claim his sons. Yet they were still Mr. Maddox and Ms. Delacroix.
He released Suzi’s hand. “May I?” he asked, glancing from Dylan to Owen, uncertain what he was asking for.
Suzi looked over his shoulder toward the table where he’d been sitting.
Ms. Delacroix must have given the okay.
He ruffled nine-year-old Owen’s hair. “How’s it going, buddy?”
They’d both grown since he’d seen them this spring at their mother’s funeral. His gut ached. He’d missed so much the past five years.
Owen threw his arms around Rhys, almost knocking him over in excitement.
“Daddy, I’m so glad you’re home. You’re not going to have to go back again like you did after Mommy’s...” The rest of Owen’s words were muffled against Rhys’s chest.
He rested his head on his older son’s. “No.” Never.
No way was he going to let anything get between him and his responsibility to his family again. He set Owen back and looked into his face. “I’m so proud of you, helping your mom and taking care of Dylan for me. Mrs. Hill sent me your soccer game pictures and one of your winning Pinewood Derby car. And I kept all of the Bible verses that you and Dylan memorized in Sunday school and wrote out for me.”
“Coach Josh helped me with the car. I painted it like your old Charger. This year, you and me can make one and win first prize instead of second.”
Rhys’s throat clogged. “Sure thing.” He lifted his hands from Owen’s shoulders and squatted in front of his younger son. “How about you, Dylan? Want to go get some ice cream with Daddy?”
“No.” The six-and-a-half-year-old shook his head emphatically. “You’re a bad man. My friend Tyler said so. His mommy told him.”
Dylan’s words hit him harder than Owen’s near tackle. Dylan had been only a toddler when Rhys had been sent to Dannemora Correctional Facility for his part as the getaway driver in a bank robbery. The little guy didn’t remember the four of them as a family, the home they’d had in Albany. But Gwen had brought both of the boys to Dannemora to see him as often as she could manage.
“Dylan. This is Daddy. It’ll be fun.” Owen jumped to his defense, filling Rhys with regret for all of the times his older son and Gwen had had to cover for him because he hadn’t been there, due to his pride, bad choices and plain stupidity.
“No, I don’t have to go. Ms. Delacroix said so. Right, Mrs. Hill?”
Rhys followed Dylan’s gaze from him to Suzi and caught her look of pity before she hid it. He stood and spun around, glaring at Renee Delacroix. She looked barely old enough to be out of college. She was an intern, and she had the authority to keep his son from him? He fisted his hands.
Ms. Delacroix avoided his glare and fixed her gaze on his fists. “Dylan expressed some reluctance to go with you today. I assured him that he didn’t have to if he didn’t feel secure.”
Security was one of the many things he’d failed to provide his family. His anger seeped out, combating his rigid stance.
“Transitioning can be more difficult for some children,” she said.
Transitioning? Rhys worked his jaw. He was Dylan’s father. He wanted to take his sons for a soft-serve ice-cream cone, with supervision, of course. The plan had been for Mrs. Hill to take the boys and meet him at the ice-cream stand on Paradox Lake, near her home and the house he’d rented.
Ms. Delacroix pushed away from the table and walked over to stand next to Rhys, facing Dylan. A faint aroma, sweet and floral, tickled his senses. Was it her shampoo? He eyed her black hair pulled back in some kind of fancy braid with a few wispy curls escaping around her face. He knew she couldn’t be as young as she looked. When she’d introduced herself, she’d said she was a graduate student interning with the county. She’d mentioned mission work she’d done with children in Haiti before coming to work in Social Services.
“Dylan, if I go with your daddy to get ice cream, do you want to come or do you want to stay with Mrs. Hill?” Ms. Delacroix asked.
While he waited for his son to answer, Rhys followed one of her curls along the curve of her cheek. He curled his lip against the bitter tang in his mouth. What had gotten into him, besides having been incarcerated with 2,500 men for the past five years? He was here for Dylan and Owen, to make them a family again. Not to be distracted by and wonder about Renee Delacroix.
Dylan wrapped his arms around his foster mother’s leg. “I want to go home with Mrs. Hill.”
Home. With a woman Dylan had only known for a matter of months. This wasn’t the dream that had kept him going since Gwen’s death, while he was waiting for his appeal and release.
“I want to go with you, Dad.” Owen’s voice pulled him from the dark place he was headed.
“You still can,” Ms. Delacroix said. “I can come and drive you back to the Hills’ house afterward.”
“Would that be all right with you, Dad?”
“More than all right.” He’d take whatever he could get when it came to spending time with his sons.
Rhys nodded to Ms. Delacroix. “I know it’s part of your job, but thanks for going out of your way.” He scuffed the toe of his work boot on the floor. The drive from Elizabethtown, where the Social Services’ office was located, to Paradox Lake and back would take her more than an hour. “I mean, having to take Owen home afterward and coming back here.”
“It’s no problem.” A true smile spread across her face, the first the all-business lady had given him. “I live near Paradox Lake. You can wait here with Mrs. Hill while I go back to my office and wrap things up so we can go.”
“Sure.” He’d been waiting five years to be with his boys. What were a few more minutes?
* * *
“Go ahead and sit.” Renee’s hand accidentally brushed Rhys Maddox’s biceps as she motioned toward a couch and chairs near the table. The rock-hard resistance unsettled her. She rushed out into the hall. Let him think I’m hurrying to get back for the visitation, not to get away from him.
Maybe she was too much of a newbie at this work but everything about Rhys Maddox unsettled her—from his record and conviction, to his tall, dark, imposing stature, to his icy-blue eyes that had thawed only when he spoke to Owen and Dylan. Especially his eyes. They weren’t just cold. They were devoid of light.
Renee crossed her arms to counteract a shiver. She was authorized to oversee supervised visits and knew how overloaded the Maddox family’s caseworker was. It wasn’t as if she was to decide whether or not to place his children with him. But she hated taking on responsibilities she wasn’t sure she was qualified to handle, making decisions like the ones she’d had to make in Haiti because the mission had been so understaffed. A week from Monday—the start of her new job as a Building Bridges’ facilitator for the Christian Action Coalition—couldn’t come soon enough. There she’d be working primarily with kids in child care and after-school programs, helping them adjust to changed family situations—divorce, death of a parent, a parent marrying or remarrying.
Renee checked with the caseworker to see if she wanted to handle the visit herself. It was Rhys Maddox’s first visit. And receiving the “no” answer she’d expected, Renee headed to her office. She scanned her desk to make sure anything that should be secured in the file cabinets was tucked away and walked back to the visitation room.
Renee heard the rumble of Rhys’s voice as she approached the doorway, but couldn’t make out his words.
“Ready?” she asked as she stepped inside. Her cheery greeting bounced off the tense silence in the room. Owen sat next to his father, tapping his foot on the floor as if he couldn’t wait to go. Dylan had curled up on Suzi’s lap in a chair, his face buried in his foster mother’s shoulder. Their father was soldier-straight on the couch, his hands clamped on his thighs.
“I asked him how his reading was coming. Gwen...” Rhys paused to swallow. “My wife had told me how excited Dylan was about starting to recognize words, that it looked like he was going to be a reader like she was. She read everything.”
“Yeah,” Owen piped up. “Dylan’s really good at reading. I had some trouble with it at my old school, but Mrs. Bradshaw helped me last year.”
Rhys’s gaze flickered between his sons. He pinched his lower lip and released it as if he was going to say something. But he didn’t.
Renee filed a mental reminder to note in the records that, with his father gone, Owen may have adopted a protective, man-of-the-family stance with his mother and brother that he was extending to his father now. Rhys’s stony expression implied that could cause conflict between Rhys and Owen. Both her earlier interview with Rhys and talking with him today had given her the distinct impression that he was a man who would protect his own, who wouldn’t welcome outside assistance, maybe not even from his eldest son.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go for ice cream?” Suzi lifted Dylan and placed him on the floor between her legs. “I’ll come.”
The little boy shook his head. Suzi gave her and Rhys a look that said I tried.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Mrs. Hill. ’Bye, Dylan,” Renee said.
“’Bye, son.”
Rhys’s tone had no inflection, as if he were afraid the boy would detect any emotion as he spoke. Emotion that had far too much of an impact on Renee. Despite her training and all her work with disrupted families in Haiti, she still had a hard time comprehending a child wanting to shut out a parent or parent shutting out a child, even if there was a good reason. Her frame of reference always came back to her big, boisterous, loving family.
Dylan took Suzi’s hand. “’Bye,” he said, not looking at either her or Rhys.
Rhys cleared his throat. “Owen says there’s a stand on the lake that serves soft ice cream. He’d like to go there.”
“I know the one. My family and I go there all the time.”
Rhys rose and Owen hopped off the couch.
“Do you have kids, Ms. Delacroix?” Owen asked as she led them from the room toward the back door.
“No, but I have two brothers—one’s my twin—and three sisters, three nieces, a nephew and another niece or nephew on the way.”
“Wow! I have only Dylan...and my dad. But Mrs. Hill’s mother told me she would be my grandmother ’cause I don’t have any grandmas or any grandpas.”
Rhys locked his jaw and pushed the door so it swung open hard, almost banging against the brick wall of the building. He held himself back until they were out and almost down the sidewalk before exiting.
“My dad doesn’t have any parents. He had parents, but he doesn’t know them. He had foster parents like the Hills. Lots of them.”
Renee nodded. That information had been in Rhys’s records.
“My mom’s parents don’t like us.”
Rhys caught up with them.
“But we don’t care about that, do we, Dad?”
From the fire in his father’s eyes, the man might care. She knew Gwen Maddox had been estranged from her parents. Renee’s brother-in-law, Connor Donnelly, pastor at the Hazardtown Community Church, had called Gwen’s parents to inform them of her death and funeral, and they’d practically hung up on him. When he’d said the boys were being placed in temporary foster care, their grandmother had started to say something but their grandfather had cut her off, telling Connor, “Foster care was good enough for their father. It’s good enough for them.”
“I’ve got you and Dylan.” Rhys wrapped his arm around his son and squeezed his shoulder. “What more could I want?”
“Mom.”
Rhys sucked in a breath. “Your mother.”
Owen looked over the parking lot. “Which car is yours, Dad?”
“I have a pickup. For work.”
At their earlier interview, he’d said he was looking for construction or electrical work but hadn’t found anything. Had Rhys heard something since then? He hadn’t said anything today.
“Mrs. Hill’s husband has a F-350 pickup with a supercab so Dylan’s booster seat fits and we can ride with Mr. Hill in the back seat. And he has a tow truck. That’s what he does, tows cars and fixes them.”
Owen’s words made Rhys wince. “Sounds like a man I should get to know.”
“Yeah, you’d like Mr. Hill,” Owen said. “Maybe you can be friends.”
Renee followed Rhys’s gaze across the parking lot to a compact pickup with faded red paint and a missing hubcap, and understood the meaning of his comment.
“Ms. Delacroix, Mrs. Hill said I had to ride with you, but couldn’t I go with my dad? I can show him where we’re going, or you can drive first and we’ll follow.”
“No, son,” Rhys answered for her. “We have to follow the rules, so we can all live together again. I’ll follow Ms. Delacroix.”
His words shouted control, which she read as another indication he’d do whatever he had to do to have his boys. Again, she was thankful she’d be done with her internship with Social Services soon, and that this would be the extent of her getting between him and his sons. It might be a flashback to her experience in Haiti, but Rhys Maddox struck her as a complex man—a man whom, despite the draw of his obvious love and devotion to his sons, she might not want to get on the wrong side of.
* * *
The truck didn’t start with his first two turns of the key and he could see Ms. Delacroix sitting in her car in the driving lane in front of him, chalking up more demerits against him. No job. No reliable transportation. No good for Owen and Dylan. He snorted a laugh. He’d been hearing the no-good part his whole life, from everyone but Gwen and the praise ministry and his Bible study group at Dannemora. He rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment before trying a third time. The engine rattled into action.
He’d get something better once he started working and could afford payments. He was trying to spend as little as possible of the money from Gwen’s life insurance policy through the school district where she’d worked. That money was for Owen and Dylan’s future. The first and last month’s rent and security deposit on the three-bedroom house he’d rented on Hazard Cove Road had taken a sizable chunk. The house was a financial stretch, but it reminded him of the house he and Gwen had had in Albany. Their home. Another casualty of his rash actions.
Ms. Delacroix tooted her car horn to signal she was taking off. He followed close behind for the thirty-mile trip to Paradox Lake and then to the opposite side of the lake from his rental house. She pulled into a rustic, old-fashioned, ice-cream stand. A red-and-white candy-striped awning shielded the order window from the hot midafternoon sun. Several picnic tables sported matching umbrellas.
Owen was out of Ms. Delacroix’s car and over to his truck almost before he’d shut it off—with the cooperation of the engine.
“Is vanilla still your favorite, Dad? Mine’s still chocolate. Can I have my cone dipped in chocolate, too?”
“Anything you want.” This time. He’d have to watch himself to avoid indulging the boys to make up for lost time. It was a recommendation Ms. Delacroix had made that he couldn’t argue with, even though he wanted to give them the best of everything.
He stepped up to the window. “We’ll have a large chocolate-dipped.”
Owen grinned at him, warming his heart in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Too long.
“A large vanilla-dipped and...” Rhys turned to Renee.
“You don’t have to pay for mine,” she said. “I’ll get my own.”
“No, I’m treating.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I can’t accept. It’s a CPS rule. We can’t take gifts.” She placed her order.
Another rule. He fingered the bills in his hand. He could accept it. The past five years had made him a master at accepting rules.
“Hey, Dad,” Owen said as they started toward an empty picnic table, “that’s my friend Alex and his dad. Can we sit with them?”
Rhys’s eyes followed Owen’s outstretched arm to a table where a dark-haired man and a boy about his son’s age sat eating burgers. He fought back a frown. This was supposed to be his time with his boys. Dylan had refused to come and now Owen wanted to be with his friend.
He took the easy out. “Ms. Delacroix?”
“It’s up to you.”
If it was up to him, he wouldn’t be here now at all. Owen and Dylan would both be living with him already.
Owen looked at him expectantly, with his mother’s eyes.
“Sure,” Rhys said.
Ms. Delacroix’s smile of approval lifted the gray mantle settling on him as much as Owen’s did.
He was pathetic, waiting for validation of everything he did.
Let go and let God. He’ll make everything right. Except Rhys’s faith was so new, he wasn’t sure he knew how to let go yet.
“Hey, Owen,” his friend Alex called.
“Hi,” Owen called back, tugging Rhys toward the table. “This is my dad,” he said as they approached the table.
Rhys’s insides went mushy at the pride in his son’s voice. He certainly hadn’t done much to make him proud in the past. But that was behind him. He wouldn’t let Owen or Dylan down again.
“Rhys Maddox.” He extended his hand over the table to Alex’s father.
“Neal Hazard.” He stood and shook hands. “Hi, Renee,” Neal said before sitting again. “Looks like you two are joining us.” He motioned to the bench beside him, where Owen was already seated next to Alex.
“Hi.” She stepped around Rhys to sit on the bench across from Neal.
Ms. Delacroix and Neal seemed friendly, even though Neal had to be ten or fifteen years older than her. Not that it mattered to him.
Rhys sat on the opposite end of the bench across from Owen.
“Just you and Alex today?” Renee glanced toward the stand.
“Yep. Anne and Sophia are having a girls’ day shopping for school clothes and Ian’s at soccer camp. I took the afternoon off so Alex wouldn’t have to go shopping with his mother and sister.”
“A fate worse than death, for sure,” Renee said.
Neal laughed in agreement, making Rhys wish he could pull off the easy manner Neal had with her.
“Maddox,” Neal said mid-laugh, as if he’d suddenly realized who Rhys was.
Rhys tensed, waiting for the other man to make the connection between him and the CPS worker.
“I should have put it together.”
Anger started to simmer in the pit of Rhys’s stomach. Hazard had better not say anything bad about him in front of Owen.
“You’re the guy who rented one of the old summer houses from my dad.”
Rhys squirmed on the bench. He wouldn’t be doing his boys any good if he was always on the defensive, expecting the worst from everyone.
“Yes, if your father is Ted Hazard.” Rhys could see a resemblance.
“Sure is. I don’t know why I didn’t think of Owen when Dad told me. We’re neighbors. Our house is right around the corner off Hazard Cove Road. Alex and Owen are almost inseparable. It’ll save us a lot of driving if they’re within walking distance of each other.”
Rhys looked at his son, who was in deep conversation with his friend. “Owen will like that. I hope to have him and Dylan with me soon.”
Neal nodded without asking for any further explanation.
He knows. Of course, he knows. Neal’s kid was Owen’s best friend.
Rhys’s stomach muscles clenched. Neal seemed to know Ms. Delacroix well enough to know she worked for the county CPS. And when he’d rented the house, Rhys had given Neal’s father full disclosure about his conviction and early release after new evidence had exonerated him of involvement in an earlier bank robbery—a robbery during which a bank guard had been shot. He wiped a drop of ice cream from his hand. How many other people knew of his background? What would that do to his job prospects? He didn’t want to move the boys. Not right away. Gwen had said Paradox Lake was a good place, and he didn’t want to disrupt Owen and Dylan’s lives any more than necessary.
“I’m going to get some water,” Renee said.
Rhys ran his tongue along the inside of dry lips. He could use one, too.
“Dad, can I get Coke?” Owen asked.
“Yes.” Rhys reached in his jeans’ pocket for his wallet. “And I’ll have a water, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” She took his money. “Do you want anything, Neal?”
“We’re good, but you’ll need some help carrying the drinks.”
“We’ll help.” Owen and Alex hopped off the bench.
“Good men,” Neal said before focusing his attention on Rhys. “Dad said you’re looking for work. You’re an electrician?”
“I did most of an apprenticeship with the Brotherhood of Electrical Workers.” Rhys bit back the “before” he’d been about to add. There was no need to bring up his past. “Do you have a lead on a job?”
“I’m looking for someone. I’m an electrical contractor. We do mostly solar installations and other work for my wife’s company, GreenSpaces.”
GreenSpaces, a big, international corporation, was on his list of places to check out. Rhys eyed Neal questioningly.
“Yeah.” Neal laughed. “You look the same way I did when I first learned Anne was a bigwig corporate executive. She teaches engineering at North Country Community College, too.”
“Your wife owns GreenSpaces?”
Neal nodded. “Anne and her first husband started the company, and she inherited his stock to add to her own when he died.”
Rhys shifted on the hard wooden bench. “I’m not licensed or part of a union or anything,” he said, wanting to be honest about his qualifications.
“The job I have is for a more general laborer, but your electrical knowledge is a plus. Interested?”
“I sure am.” He saw no reason to hide his enthusiasm.
Neal reached in his wallet and pulled out his business card. “Does eight o’clock tomorrow morning work for you for an interview?”
“Eight’s fine.”
Rhys fingered the card. His roller-coaster life was heading up again. He prayed that it stayed there as he watched Owen walk back with Renee and thought about Dylan. CPS seemed to be more into keeping them apart than in reuniting them. He’d talk with Pastor Connor about the Building Bridges thing at the Hazardtown Community Church. Rhys had shrugged off the pastor’s recommendation that he get involved to help him and his boys reconnect. But now he thought it just might help him reach Dylan—and keep the uphill momentum.
Chapter Two (#u1f39d4e9-613b-5542-a069-9dee9628c74c)
Renee had trouble quelling the emotion that welled inside her as she watched father and son part ways in the driveway of the Hills’ home. How did the other CPS workers maintain their professional distance? Would this be a problem at Building Bridges, too, working so closely with kids?
Owen began peppering his father with questions such as “When will I see you again? Can I come and see the house you got us?” and “When can Dylan and I come live with you?”
She listened as his father calmly answered, reassuring the boy that he was as anxious as Owen to be a family again, but not giving his son any direct answers that could mislead him. Rhys had asked her the same questions when they’d met before the visit. The only answer she’d had for him then was that the Family Court judge would make those decisions.
After giving his son a final hug, Rhys climbed into his truck and drove away. She walked Owen into the house.
“Did you have a good time?” Suzi asked.
“The best,” Owen said. “Alex and his dad were there, too.”
“Dylan’s been waiting for you to come home. He’s up in your room.”
“Okay. I’ll go so you can talk to Ms. Delacroix.”
Renee and Suzi laughed.
“Too perceptive for his own good,” Suzi said once he was gone. “Did you have a chance to ask Mr. Maddox—Rhys—about Sunday dinner?”
“No, I didn’t even think of it.”
The original plan had been for Suzi to invite him to dinner after the ice-cream outing if everything had gone well, which Renee thought it had—with Owen, at least. But the episode with Dylan at the Social Services office had prevented Suzi from going to get ice cream with Rhys and having the opportunity to ask.
“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Renee said. Her heart raced at the prospect of hearing his deep voice, a voice that held the same hint of danger as his eyes and posture. But observing him with Owen, she’d seen a man who didn’t match her earlier impressions.
“Or I can,” Suzi offered.
“No, I’ll do it.” Suzi would have to call her or the Maddox’s caseworker with the details anyway.
“Okay, let me know what he says. Although I think I already know what his answer will be.”
Renee nodded. “Talk to you later.”
She walked to her car, her pulse still skittering. What was she afraid of? This wasn’t Haiti. It was only a phone call, and one he’d welcome.
* * *
A half hour later Renee arrived at the three-family house in Ticonderoga where she and her sister Claire had an apartment. Before unlocking the front door she retrieved their mail, including a large padded envelope for Claire that was wedged between the mailbox and the house siding.
“Hey. Is that what I think it is?”
Renee jumped.
Claire stood at the bottom of the porch steps. “I hope whatever thought you were lost in was a good one,” she said.
Not really. The picture in her mind of Rhys leaving his son faded and her anxiety returned. She waved the padded envelope to divert Claire’s attention. “You’re expecting something from Texas A&M maybe?”
Claire broke into a wide smile. “You know I am.” She grabbed the envelope and clutched it to her chest as Renee opened the door.
“After you,” Renee said, smiling as she followed Claire up to their second-floor apartment. Maybe she should order in or take Claire out to celebrate and clear her mind of work.
“How does it look on me?” Claire asked, draping her newly earned Masters in Agricultural Development degree in front of her.
“Fabulous. It really matches your ivory complexion.”
“Don’t you think?” Claire lifted the paper closer to her face and tilted her head.
“I’m proud of you,” Renee said. “And I know Mom and Dad are, too.”
She was proud of Claire. Her sister had decided what she’d wanted—a hands-on position at the Cornell Experimental Farm, and to eventually work her way up to director—and she’d focused all of her energy on what she’d needed to do to get there. All of her siblings were like that.
“I really admire your drive.”
“You’re no slacker yourself,” Claire said.
“But sometimes I feel like I am, like I have no direction. The rest of you all knew what you wanted to do and were on your way there by the time you were my age.”
Beginning with her oldest sister, they’d all achieved their dreams—mother, chef, newscaster. Even her twin, Paul, who’d wanted to take over the family dairy farm since he’d seen his first baby calf.
“You’re on your way with your graduate work, the internship you’re wrapping up and your new job.”
Renee pushed her hair off her forehead. “I’m headed somewhere, but I’m not sure it’s where I want to be or where I’m supposed to be headed.”
“I knew something’s been bothering you. Talk to me,” Claire said, placing her degree on an end table and motioning Renee to sit.
Renee dropped onto the couch. “I got my BA in sociology because I wanted to help people. When I graduated, I thought my calling was health care, so I went to Haiti. It wasn’t health care. But—” for the most part, she added silently “—I made a difference working with the families that came into the clinic. I came back knowing I wanted to work with children and their families.”
“Now you don’t?” Claire asked.
“I do, but my internship has showed me that I don’t want to work in child protection services.” She peered into her sister’s sympathetic face. “I don’t want the responsibility of taking a child from or placing a child back with a parent and having something go wrong with the placement.”
Claire draped her arm around Renee’s shoulder, making Renee feel all the more the baby of the family.
“You did everything you could have done with what happened in Haiti. You said so yourself.”
Renee dropped her head to her chest and drew a deep breath. “Everything but heed a dying mother’s warning. The girl went willingly with her father.” Just like Owen was ready to move right in with his father. “She was too young to know better.”
“You did everything within your power,” Claire reassured her. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
“So, I’m home and back to square one, trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Ending my internship earlier than planned to change my job focus again, and throwing money away on a degree I may not use.”
“Are you saying you think you should stay at CPS through August now, finish the internship?” Claire asked.
“No.” Renee sighed. “But what if the Action Coalition and Building Bridges isn’t my place, either? Didn’t any of you have second or third thoughts about what you wanted to do?”
Claire wavered. “I can only speak for myself, but no. Sorry. A lot of people go through several ‘first’ jobs before settling into a career, though. You know we’ll all be behind you, whatever you decide.”
“Yes, I do.” And maybe that was the problem. Her family members had always been right there to pick her up and set her on her feet, to baby her—even Paul.
Her thoughts skittered to Rhys Maddox, who had no one but himself to support him. Yet, through his barely concealed anger he’d radiated confidence in his ability to get custody of his sons.
Renee blew out a breath with a whoosh that made Claire look at her. It was about time she stood on her own two feet—and her faith—and made a plan with no one holding her hand.
* * *
Rhys strode up to the oversize barn-style garage set across the driveway from a large log home. Neal Hazard hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said they were neighbors. The house and garage office were well within walking distance from the house he was renting on Hazard Cove Road. The buildings, nestled in the thick pinewoods that lined both sides of the private road, weren’t visible from the main road.
He slapped the bright red folder he clenched in his right hand against his leg. He’d worn black chinos and a dress shirt—his only dress shirt—for the interview, but had had to settle for his new work boots. They’d seemed a better choice than his athletic shoes.
Although he’d used the library to apply online for a dozen other jobs, this was his first interview. He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, not sure what to expect.
Neal’s office looked like any guy’s garage with the addition of a desk pushed back in the corner, facing the door. “Right on time,” Neal said, looking over the computer monitor in front of him. “Come in, sit down.”
He took a seat in the chair to the left of the desk, and Neal swiveled to face him head-on. Rhys placed the red folder on the desk and pushed it toward Neal. “My résumé.”
Neal handed him a paper in exchange. “Our job application. You can write ‘on résumé’ for previous employment.”
Rhys pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and went to work on the application, shutting down the urge to look up at Neal’s expression while he reviewed his résumé.
“How much of the apprenticeship had you completed when you...” Neal paused, as if searching for the right word.
“Before I was arrested,” Rhys finished for him. No sense in tiptoeing around the facts. He’d done his time for his actions. Actions he no longer justified with needing to make back payments on their mortgage and taxes to avoid his family ending up homeless. He knew now that he’d broken God’s commandment, and had asked for and received forgiveness. “I had about three and a half years of the apprenticeship done. I’ve reapplied to pick up the Associate of Applied Science degree in general technology I was pursuing online as part of the apprenticeship.”
“Good.”
Rhys finished the application and looked up.
“I can contact your references for more information?” Neal asked, tapping the letter from the electrician who’d supervised Rhys’s work in Albany.
“About my work, yes.” The electrician had assured Rhys he’d have no problem discussing with potential employers the progress he’d made in the apprenticeship program.
“And Connor Donnelly? You participated in his ministry at Dannemora?”
“I—”
“Wait, you don’t have to answer. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, I put it in the references. I have no problem talking about it.” If Neal was going to hold his faith against him in any way, he wasn’t a person Rhys wanted to work for, despite how badly he needed work. “I’m indebted to Pastor Connor for leading me to Christ and for helping Gwen, my wife, relocate here so I could see her and the boys more.” Rhys leaned forward. “And Owen and Dylan are registered for The Kids Place summer and after-school child-care program at Connor’s church when CPS gives the go-ahead for them to live with me.”
Neal raised his hand in a sign of surrender and Rhys’s heart dropped. Him and his big mouth. Gwen had always said he didn’t talk much, but when he had something to say, he had no filter.
“Hey, I know where you’re coming from. I was a single father for nineteen years.”
Rhys leaned back.
“My oldest daughter, Autumn, was born when I was seventeen, and she was practically my whole life until she graduated high school. She and Pastor Connor were classmates. Autumn’s a midwife at the birthing center in Ticonderoga. I raised her myself. Granted, I had help from my mom and dad, but she was my responsibility.”
“So you understand.” Rhys accepted the kinship Neal offered. That’s what he planned to do: make Owen and Dylan the center of his life. He couldn’t imagine marrying again, as Neal had, or having more kids. He owed his boys too much to have anything left over for anyone else.
“But you’re probably more interested in knowing about the job than my kids,” Neal said.
Rhys kept a rein on his excitement as Neal outlined the responsibilities of the position, but almost lost it when he heard the generous starting salary.
“Any questions?” Neal asked when he’d finished.
Rhys hesitated. “Health insurance?” He didn’t care so much for himself, but he needed it for the boys. It would be another positive he could report to CPS.
“Good insurance. Better than most small employers can offer. It’s through GreenSpaces’ multi-company plan. And we have a retirement savings plan, too.”
He tried to look appreciative. For now, all he wanted was to be able to make a secure home for his family.
“Anything else?” Neal asked.
“Not that I can think of.”
“All right, then.” Neal rose.
Rhys followed suit. “Thank you for the opportunity to interview.”
“I’ll give you a call within the next couple of days. If your references check out, you have the job.” Neal smiled. “Anyone else in the area with your training and experience already works for me.”
“I look forward to hearing from you.” Rhys walked out of the office at a controlled pace, rather than bounding to the door in leaps of joy, as he wanted to. He couldn’t imagine either his former supervisor or Pastor Connor telling Neal anything derogatory about him. He whistled his way to his truck, which started with the first turn of the key. Nothing could dampen his spirits.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket and Rhys pulled it out and saw the CPS number.
Well, almost nothing.
* * *
“Is that him?” Owen asked Renee for the third time in the past five minutes.
She went to the front window, pushed back the curtain and spotted Rhys’s truck slowing to turn into the Hills’ driveway. She brushed her moist palms against the skirt of her black-and-white crinkle-cotton summer dress.
“Yes, your dad is pulling in the driveway.”
Owen reached the door at the same time Rhys knocked.
“You’re supposed to ask before you open the door, Owen,” Dylan said. “Mrs. Hill said so. It could be a stranger.”
“It’s Dad. Ms. Delacroix said so.” Owen looked over his shoulder at Renee.
“Go ahead.”
Owen swung the door open. “You’re here.”
A broad smile spread across Rhys’s face, softening the angular, almost harsh edges of his features.
“Of course I’m here. I told you at church this morning I would be.”
“I know, but I’m just so glad.”
“Me, too.” Rhys moved his gaze from Owen to Dylan, who stood next to Renee but edged closer. Rhys’s smile faltered a bit. “Hi, Dylan.”
“Hi, Daddy,” Dylan said before turning his face into the side of her leg.
“Ms. Delacroix.”
“Hi. The boys have been checking every few minutes to see if you were here yet.” She was only slightly exaggerating. Owen had been checking enough for both of them.
“Yeah, we have a bunch of stuff to show you,” Owen said.
“And I want to see it all. Give me a minute with Ms. Delacroix and to check in with the Hills.” He glanced around the living room as if he’d just noticed they weren’t there.
“Boys,” she said. “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and get those cookies you made for your dad, and the milk and paper cups?”
Owen looked from her to his father. “So you can tell Dad about the Hills?”
Something flickered in his father’s eyes. If it was anyone else, she would call it fear, but she couldn’t imagine him being afraid of anything or anyone.
“Can I carry the milk?” Dylan asked into her skirt.
She said yes and Dylan loosened his clutch. The boys ran off into the next room.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Rhys said. “I mean, the other day when you called, you said dinner at the Hills with the boys.” He straightened, looming over her. “Where are the Hills?”
“It’s nothing bad.”
He knitted his eyebrows.
Great. Now she had him on edge. Not what she wanted. Her job should have been simple enough—be there in the background with him and the boys until Jack got back.
“On their way home from church, Suzi got a call from her grandmother’s neighbor in Saranac Lake. Her grandmother took a fall this morning. She’s all right. Nothing broken, but she’s shaken up. Suzi drove up there and is staying with her for the afternoon.”
“And Jack?”
“He got a towing call about an hour ago. He should be back any time now.”
Rhys scrutinized her. “So you had to come and cover for them.”
“I volunteered.” Her internship wasn’t just a job. She cared about the children. The people she worked with did, too. “The Hills didn’t want to cancel and disappoint you and the boys.”
“Ms. Delacroix, look at how strong I am.” Dylan entered the room, lifting the gallon jug of milk for her to see and filling the silence that had stretched between her and his father.
She felt the pain that flickered across the man’s face at his younger son turning to her, not him, for approval.
Owen followed with a plate of four cookies and cups. “Dylan, put the milk on the table before you drop it.” He placed the cookies on the coffee table next to the jug. “Ms. Delacroix said we could only have one each so we don’t spoil our appetite for dinner. We’re having lasagna with meatballs.”
“We certainly wouldn’t want to spoil our appetites for that,” Rhys said.
“I told Mrs. Hill that it’s your favorite,” Owen said.
“Me, too,” Dylan said, grabbing his cookie and jumping up on the couch.
Rhys gave the boys a thumbs-up, sat on the couch next to, but not touching, his youngest son and poured him a cup of milk.
It was good to see Dylan interacting with his father. Maybe she’d imagined Rhys’s resentment earlier. It might have been nerves. As stoic as he seemed, Rhys Maddox was human.
“Come on, Ms. Delacroix,” Owen said, sidling up next to his father to make room for her on the couch. “There’s space for you, too.”
“In a minute. I need to check the lasagna.” And give your father a moment with you. “I’d better stir the sauce and meatballs, too. I told Mr. Hill I wouldn’t let it burn.”
“We wouldn’t want burned sauce, would we, guys?” Rhys asked.
“No!” the boys shouted.
From the stove, she could see directly across the kitchen and dining room to where they were in the living room. “I’ll be right back.”
Rhys nodded in her direction as he listened to Owen give a play-by-play of baking the cookies with Mrs. Hill.
In the kitchen, Renee lifted the lid of the saucepan and breathed in the spicy tomato smell. After giving the sauce a stir, she looked over her shoulder into the living room. Owen was still talking. She opened the oven and checked the lasagna. Silence from the other room made her spin around, heart pounding. The oven door snapped shut. They were still there. Relief flooded her. Of course they were. Rhys Maddox wouldn’t do anything stupid to jeopardize his regaining custody.
“Everything looks good,” she said as she reentered the living room. “The timer’s set for the lasagna. Mr. Hill should be back by the time it’s done.”
“Eat your cookie, Ms. Delacroix,” Owen said. “We want to show Dad our room and stuff.”
“Yeah,” Dylan said. “Mrs. Hill said you’d stay right with us.”
His father stiffened against the back of the couch.
“I can wait on the cookie. I know you’re anxious to show your dad your things.”
Owen leaped off the couch and grabbed his father’s hand, pulling him toward the stairway. “Our room is upstairs.”
“Wait for your brother,” Rhys said.
Dylan slid off the couch. “I’ll show you, Ms. Delacroix.” He slipped his hand in hers.
Rhys’s shoulders slumped for a moment. Straightening, he said, “Lead the way Owen.”
Upstairs in the boys’ room, Renee relaxed as they caught their father up on what they were doing in their lives. Their exuberant—and their father’s more restrained—joy flowed over her, drawing her in.
“And this is my shirt drawer,” Owen said once he ran out of other things to show his father.
The sound of the stove timer startled Renee away from the adoring grin on Rhys’s face that had captivated her. He was a different person around Owen and Dylan.
“Hello? Where is everyone?” came a voice from below before she could excuse herself to check the pasta.
“That’s Mr. Hill. I’ll tell him you’re here, Dad.” Owen raced down the stairs with Dylan shadowing him.
Their father stopped halfway down. “Before we have dinner, I have a question.”
“Certainly, Mr. Maddox.” She reassumed her professional demeanor that she’d let slip watching him and the boys.
“If we’re going to be doing this visitation stuff...” He waved down the stairs. “Can you call me Rhys?”
“I can.” Despite her best effort, she’d already started thinking of him as Rhys. “And please call me Renee, except in front of the boys.” Not that she expected to have much contact with him and his sons once she started her new job a week from Monday.
“Gotcha,” he said with the same smile that had softened her when he’d used it with his sons upstairs. The smile that cracked his armor and showed the dichotomy of Rhys Maddox—both the off-putting, cold, aloof male and the adoring father who tugged at her heartstrings.
Her departure from CPS couldn’t come too soon.
Chapter Three (#u1f39d4e9-613b-5542-a069-9dee9628c74c)
Rhys put his washed lunch dishes in the drainer and wiped the table down for the second time today. After three days of rain and being trapped inside—except for a couple times when the clouds had broken and he’d casually driven by the Hills’ in hopes of catching a glimpse of Owen and Dylan—he had to get out.
He tossed the dishcloth into the sink. No, it hadn’t been casual, but more stalker-like. He’d better be careful or he could mess things up. It didn’t help that it had been almost a week and he hadn’t heard from Neal Hazard about the job, nor had he heard from any of the places he’d applied to online.
The only bright spot had been his conversation with Pastor Connor. He had given him more details about the Building Bridges program and said that Owen and Dylan were two of the children the local school district had recommended for The Kids Place program. Connor had also asked Rhys if he’d be interested in volunteering at the group’s weekly meetings and events. Several of the other children recommended had no male role models in their families. Flattered that Pastor Connor would think him role model material, Rhys said he’d consider it and let Connor know before the meeting of volunteers and staff next week at the Christian Action Coalition office. While he wasn’t sold that it was entirely his thing, it would give him more time with his sons.
Rhys changed into a pair of shorts and grabbed the towel from the bathroom. When he’d rented the house, Ted Hazard had said to feel free to use the family beach next to the Sonrise summer camp on Paradox Lake. It was early Thursday afternoon and most people would be working. He’d probably have the place to himself. A half hour of hard swimming might lift the weight of his situation off him for a while.
When Rhys walked onto the beach, he saw he wasn’t alone. Renee sat on a blanket towel-drying her hair next to a woman he didn’t recognize. Just the reminder he was trying to escape. He hadn’t heard from her or anyone else at CPS about another visit all week. He started to turn back. The jog from the house had worn off some adrenaline. Then he changed his mind. He couldn’t be a hermit, not if he wanted to make any kind of life for him and his sons. Rhys strode toward the women. Better to be on the offensive than the defensive.
“Hey,” he called with what he hoped was a friendly wave. He couldn’t tell from the look on Renee’s face when she turned around. It bordered somewhere between surprise and alarm.
“Hi, Rhys.” She composed herself and dropped the towel onto the blanket.
He spread his own towel a short distance away. “Ted Hazard said I had beach privileges as part of the rental.” Rhys regretted his words as soon as they were out. He should have said “Nice day” or “How’s the water?” He didn’t have to justify his every action to her or anyone else.
“Hello,” the other woman said. “Since Renee has seemed to have lost her manners, I’m her sister Claire.”
“I was getting to introductions,” Renee said. “Claire, this is Rhys Maddox.” She hesitated, glancing out at the lake. “D—” The rest of her introduction was drowned out by the shout of a little boy about Dylan’s age racing toward them. Renee’s nephew? Rhys’s lunch churned in his stomach when he saw Dylan right behind the boy.
“Aunt Claire, I left my goggles in your car,” the boy said.
“Daddy, what are you doing here?” Dylan asked.
Not the most welcoming greeting, but Rhys would take it. “I was going to swim. I didn’t know you were here, either.”
“You can swim with us,” Dylan said.
“I’d like to.” He looked at Renee for confirmation.
She frowned.
It had seemed like a reasonable request to him.
“I thought you didn’t have a father,” the other boy said.
“That was last year.”
Dylan’s words sliced through him. His son had been telling his friends he didn’t have a father?
“I told you I did now. Daddy, this is my friend Robbie. He’s not the one who said you’re a bad guy.”
“Hi.” That’s a real confidence booster.
Robbie was dancing back and forth on his toes in the sand. “Can we get the goggles now? I want to show Dylan the cool rocks on the bottom of the lake.”
“Come on.” Claire stood and led the boys to the parking area, leaving him alone with Renee.
“Swimming with Dylan wouldn’t be breaking any rules, would it? You’re here.”
She squinted up at him, even though the sun had gone behind the clouds. “Swimming shouldn’t be a problem.”
Rhys emptied his pockets of his cell phone and wallet. He never went anywhere without identification. A seagull squawked above, breaking the dead silence. This was where he should make small talk, except he’d never been good with small talk before his incarceration, and he wasn’t any better now.
“So, Robbie’s your nephew? He and Dylan are friends?” Real smooth.
“Yes, they’re in the same class at school.”
Silence settled in again, and Rhys looked out over the lake. None too soon, Claire and the boys were back with the goggles.
“Who wants to swim?” Rhys asked.
“I do,” both boys said.
“Race you,” Rhys said, taking off at a pace the boys could match.
“You didn’t tell me he’s even more attractive up close,” Rhys heard Claire say as the boys caught up with him.
He strained to hear Renee’s low response, but the boys and the sound of a boat on the lake made it impossible. He hit the water and dived in, welcoming the cold jolt from the hot August heat. Thinking of Renee in any way other than a professional one felt like he was betraying Gwen. They’d had a good marriage, although their relationship had been strained after he’d gone to prison. But one thing he’d never faltered on was his love for his wife and his commitment to the sanctity of their marriage vows.
Any attraction he might feel toward Renee was superficial. She was a beautiful woman. But he’d learned the hard way not to make decisions based on impulse, and had no room in his life for anyone other than his kids.
When he surfaced, Dylan and Robbie met him with a splash to the face. He growled and tickled them both, inciting a new round of splashing. He couldn’t express how good it was to see Dylan laughing and squealing with him.
“I’m cold,” Dylan said after about fifteen minutes of play. He looked up at Rhys as if uncertain whether his dad would be angry with him if he got out of the water early.
Rhys hid his disappointment. “You can go back on the beach and warm up,” he assured him. As much as he’d like more time with Dylan, ending the game happily on his son’s terms was progress. “I’m going to swim some more.”
“But you don’t have a buddy. You’re always supposed to have a buddy when you swim,” Dylan said.
“You and Robbie can watch me from the beach.”
“No, I’ll tell Ms. Delacroix you want her to watch you. She’s a better swimmer than we are.” With that, Dylan and Robbie paddled away.
Rhys dunked himself as he thought of Dylan telling Renee he wanted her to keep an eye on him. He stroked to the middle of the lake, trying not to think about Renee watching him.
* * *
“Surprise! Happy birthday!”
Renee jumped back and pasted a smile on her face when she and Claire entered the lounge of the Hazardtown Community Church for the Twenty-/Thirtysomethings group meeting the next evening. “I’ll get you,” she said under her breath so that only her sister could hear her. Claire had to be behind this. Her friends meant well. They didn’t know she didn’t like surprises. But Claire did. The family celebration yesterday on her actual birthday had been plenty.
“Not me.” Claire propelled her into the lounge. “Blame Pastor Connor for this one.”
“What?” Connor asked. “Natalie said you’ve always wanted a surprise birthday party.”
Everyone laughed. One deep resonating chuckle drew her attention. She’d hoped to use the evening at the weekly Bible study and social time afterward to escape the pressure she’d been under to tie everything up at CPS before she left. But work, in the form of Rhys Maddox, had followed her.
“All right. Find a seat,” Pastor Connor said.
The twelve or so people settled down, with Renee sitting several chairs away from Rhys.
“As I’m sure you noticed, we have a new potential member, Rhys Maddox. Claire or Abby, can you share your study guide?” Pastor Connor asked, looking from Renee’s sister sitting on one side of Rhys to the woman on the other side.
“On it,” Claire said, opening her guide and spreading it between her and Rhys before Abby could open her mouth.
Renee stared at Claire. What was she up to? Claire couldn’t be interested in the man. He wasn’t her sister’s type. Claire liked men with polish. Rhys was more of a diamond in the rough. Too much work, in Renee’s opinion. Not that she thought of him that way, as an eligible man. Nor did he think of her as eligible, either, from the professional contact she’d had with him.
“Some of you may know Rhys,” Connor said. “But we’ll go around and introduce ourselves anyway.”
Renee shifted her gaze to the right of Claire. Rhys was looking directly at her. She lowered her eyes and caught him shuffling the sole of his athletic shoe against the wood flooring. He was nervous. That was a new side of him—her impression was that nothing fazed the man. Things angered him, yes, but didn’t rattle him.
“Renee?” Connor said.
Jerked from her thoughts, Renee moved her gaze past her sister, who smirked, to Connor and back to Rhys.
“Rhys and I know each other.” She smiled at the group, stopping at Rhys. His expression was neutral. Renee crossed her ankles. Had her tone sounded sharp rather than friendly? Connor had startled her. She uncrossed her legs. What did she expect from Rhys? One of those smiles he reserved for his boys? They might be on a first-name basis now, but it wasn’t as if they were friends.
The introductions continued around the circle back to Pastor Connor, and the group plunged into its usual routine: an opening prayer, reading of the week’s lesson and lively discussion. Renee sat back in her seat, listening more than participating. Although she didn’t know why, Rhys’s participation surprised her. He didn’t say much, but when he commented, his few words were insightful and thought-provoking, moving the discussion in interesting directions.
“Okay,” Connor said, “I’m going to wrap the meeting up now, so we can party.”
Renee looked at the clock on the wall, surprised the hour had passed so quickly. Rhys’s gaze snagged hers as she looked down again. A prickle ran down her spine.
“Jon,” Conner asked one of the men, “will you do the closing prayer?”
Renee bowed her head while the words of the prayer rolled over her without really registering.
Afterward, the group members headed toward the door. Renee waited for her sister.
“The cleaning staff likes us to keep food in the church hall,” she heard Claire tell Rhys. “It makes cleanup easier.”
“I can’t stay. Something’s come up. I have a call I need to return.” Rhys rested his hand on the phone clipped to his belt.
Claire frowned at his departing back.
“Happy birthday,” he said as he brushed by Renee, leaving before she could say thanks. The relief she felt was as much for Rhys as for herself. No question about it, the man unsettled her. As for him, she guessed that a regular meeting would have been a better introduction to their group. By all indications, Rhys was a loner. She was sure he’d come expecting the Bible study Pastor Connor had probably told him about, not a birthday party for her.
The party wasn’t as bad as she’d expected—it actually wasn’t bad at all. Abby had baked her favorite German chocolate cake, and Pastor Connor’s sister-in-law Becca pointed out that Renee was still the baby of the group.
“Hey,” Claire said afterward as they drove home, “Rhys Maddox sure is Mr. Personality.”
“What do you mean?”
Claire headed past the lake toward Ticonderoga. “He could have at least stayed for a piece of cake. Returning a phone call is a flimsy excuse for leaving.”
“Not if it was about his kids.”
“Wouldn’t you have gotten a call from Suzi?”
“Maybe not.” Although probably. “It could have been about a job.” Renee didn’t know why she was coming to Rhys’s defense.
“A business call at this time of night? But I’ll cut him some slack. He is take-your-breath-away handsome.”
Renee couldn’t argue with her sister. Rhys Maddox was striking. “Claire, you’re not interested in him, are you?”
Claire parked the car in front of their apartment-house. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “You know how I like a challenge.”
Renee’s shoulders tightened. Was it apprehension because her sister had no idea what she’d be getting with Rhys? Or something else altogether?
* * *
Rhys welcomed the cool breeze blowing off the lake when he stepped out of the church hall. Unless he was wrong, Renee’s sister Claire had been showing interest in him. He ran his hand through his hair. She and the other woman who’d sat beside him had both been friendly, and Renee hadn’t liked it. At least, she hadn’t liked her sister being friendly. If he had a sister, he probably wouldn’t want her being friendly with someone like him, either. And Renee hadn’t looked any happier when he’d made his exit. Maybe she thought he was blowing her off by not staying for cake.
He shook off the thoughts of both Delacroix sisters and pulled his phone from his pocket. It had buzzed during the Bible discussion and he’d checked it to see if it was the Hills. It hadn’t been, so he’d figured he could wait until after the meeting to check the voice mail.
He leaned against the cab of his truck and looked out at the pine forest as he now waited for the voice mail to connect.
“Rhys, this is Neal Hazard.”
A film of dampness formed between his palm and the phone.
“Sorry about calling so late on a Friday. We’re working out near Watertown, and I just got back. If you’re still interested in the job, give me a call, anytime until nine tonight or during the day tomorrow.”
Rhys checked the time: 8:52. Good thing he’d skipped the party. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight without knowing what Neal had to say. He quickly dialed Neal’s number.
“Neal Hazard.”
“Neal, it’s Rhys Maddox.”
“Hi. I know I said I’d get back to you earlier this week, but your Albany reference was on vacation. I couldn’t get hold of him until today. If you want the job, it’s yours.”
One, two, three, four, five. Rhys counted so he could come across calmer than he was. “Yes, definitely.”
“Good. Can you start Monday?”
“Not a problem.”
“I hope the next part isn’t, either. We’ll be working the Watertown job for the next three weeks. It’s about a three-hour drive. The crew has been staying there during the week and coming home on weekends.”
Owen and Dylan’s fall soccer season was starting already, and he’d promised Owen he’d come to his first game next Tuesday. Then there was that Building Bridges meeting Pastor Connor had told him about. They were all important, but he had to get his priorities straight. He needed a job to regain custody of Owen and Dylan. For now, the job came first. It had to—for his sons.
“If it’s not okay, you can start in three weeks,” Neal said in response to his hesitation.
“No. I mean, yes, I can start Monday.” He had to think long-term, even if Owen would be disappointed, and he’d make Dylan’s game tomorrow, his first one. “I didn’t ask this at the interview, but do I need my own tools?” Shame washed over him. Gwen had had to sell his.
“The company has tools. You’ll probably want to get your own as time goes on.”
Rhys smiled at the night sky. As time goes on. He liked the sound of that.
“Be at the office at six, Monday morning. We take company trucks.”
He patted the side of his pickup. Another plus. “I’ll be there. Thanks for giving me this opportunity.”
“You’re qualified. Why wouldn’t I?”
Rhys could think of many reasons another man might not. But he simply said, “See you Monday,” then hung up.
Rhys pushed off the truck, climbed in and let out a cheer as he headed home, not sure that he’d be getting a whole lot more sleep than if he hadn’t called Neal.
* * *
Morning’s arrival proved him right about the sleep, or lack of it. The two cups of coffee he’d had at home before leaving for Dylan’s soccer game had only taken the edge off his sleep-deprivation fog. So he’d stopped at the coffee shop in Schroon Lake for another, which had taken far longer than he’d expected. Now, he was running late for the game.
He approached the field behind the high school and spotted his son. He lifted his hand to raise his arm and get Dylan’s attention, so he’d know he was there, but then stopped. Rhys didn’t want to embarrass him, or worse, distract Dylan and get him in trouble with his coach.
“Rhys!” Jack Hill beckoned him over to the bleacher where he and Suzi sat.
This morning was supposed to be Dylan’s time, so Suzi had arranged for Owen to go to his friend Alex’s house.
“Sorry.” Rhys lifted his coffee cup. “It took longer than I expected.”
“Don’t worry,” Suzi said. “The game is just starting.”
Rhys sat next to Jack. “Did Dylan say anything about me not being here?”
“No, he was fine,” Suzi said.
He knew her words were meant to reassure him, but they didn’t. Rhys gulped down the rest of his coffee. Thursday afternoon at the lake had gone so well. He’d been looking forward to today and thought Dylan might be, too. He crumpled his empty cup. He was making too big a deal of things.
“Hi, Rhys.” A voice he couldn’t place at first came from behind him.
He turned. “Hi, Claire.” He nodded. “Renee.” They were with several other people he assumed were family members.
“Robbie plays on Dylan’s team,” Claire said.
“Claire, you can socialize later,” an older man said. “The game’s starting.”
“Dad, it’s a kids’ game, not the World Cup.”
“But your bobbing back and forth is distracting,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I want to be able to see Robbie.”
Claire shook her head and sat back on the bleacher.
Rhys had no intention of socializing with Claire, but he did want to talk privately with Renee about the job and working out of town the next three weeks. It would save him a phone call to CPS on Monday. He’d have to catch her after the game.
He turned his attention to the field. The game was more a comedy of errors than a competition, and he enjoyed every minute of it, cheering Dylan and his team on, along with the Hills and Renee’s family behind them. A fleeting thought of Gwen, the only woman he’d ever loved, and what she was missing—what he’d missed—made his joy bittersweet.
Dylan raced over after the game ended. “Suzi, did you see? I kicked the ball three times.”
Rhys swallowed his disappointment that his son went to Suzi and not him. He knew he was expecting too much too soon. “That last kick was almost a goal.”
“I know.” Dylan beamed at him, lifting his spirits. The boy turned to Jack. “Can we get ice cream on the way home?”
“Sure thing,” Jack said. “Your dad can meet us at the ice-cream stand.”
Two steps forward. One step back. “I wouldn’t miss it. I need to talk with Ms. Delacroix and then I’ll be right there.”
Dylan nodded and Rhys watched him walk away with the Hills, nearly missing Renee leaving with Claire. He jogged the few steps to catch up with them.
“Renee, I need to talk with you, if you have a minute.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be at the car.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “About Owen and Dylan.”
“I don’t...all right,” Renee answered.
“Can we sit?” Rhys asked.
She nodded and he led them back to the bleachers they’d just left. He waited until she’d settled on the front bench before sitting.
“I have a job with Hazard Solar starting Monday.”
“Congratulations.”
Rhys searched her face for an indication that the job was good news for his custody case. “I know. I could have called the office about that on Monday, but there’s more. I’ll be working in Watertown during the week. I’m going to talk with Jack and Suzi about weekend visitation. I’m meeting with them at the soft-serve ice-cream stand. They can coordinate with you.”
She shook her head. “Didn’t your caseworker contact you? My internship with CPS ended yesterday.”
His heart sank. He was going to have to start all over with someone else at CPS? Just when he and Renee finally had a working relationship going. While he couldn’t say Renee appeared crazy about working with him, she seemed to have been a lot more invested in his boys’ welfare than the caseworker. “So I have to contact Ms. Bulmer?”
“I’m afraid so. They don’t have another intern lined up yet.”
Rhys had hoped to have Owen and Dylan back before CPS shuffled them off from the caseworker to yet another person. He rubbed his palms against his jeans. “How does this go? I call Ms. Bulmer and let her know about the job? Then what?”
Renee turned her body to face him fully. Her gaze softened. “You’ll need to provide documentation about the job, and Ms. Bulmer will have to approve any new visitation schedule you and Suzi work out. Be patient with her. All the caseworkers have heavy loads.”
Patience wasn’t one of his strong points. “But someone will get back to me about visitation?”
“Yes, probably Suzi. Anything else?”
“No.” He didn’t want to end the conversation. He could ask her what she was doing now that her internship was done. Maybe get that read he wanted on how his job would affect his custody application.
“Okay then, I’m going to get going. Claire’s waiting.” Renee stood.
The moment was gone. “Right, sure. Thanks for the information.”
After Renee left, he rested his elbows on his knees, head in hands. Again, what had he expected? That she’d be excited for him? He felt good about the job and the opportunity it offered him and his boys. That’s all that mattered. He was a CPS client, her former CPS client, and that was all.
Rhys ignored the hollow feeling in his stomach. Once he had Owen and Dylan back, between caring for them and working, he wouldn’t have much time for friendship—with her or anyone else.
Chapter Four (#u1f39d4e9-613b-5542-a069-9dee9628c74c)
Rhys dropped the wire crimpers into his toolbox and rubbed the back of his neck. He shouldn’t feel like he was pulling a fast one, leaving the job in Ticonderoga early. Neal had okayed his working a short day on Thursdays so he could volunteer at the weekly Bridges meetings for the kids at church. The only stipulation was that he make up the time. Working late was no problem while the kids were living with the Hills. He’d worked ten-and eleven-hour days the three weeks in Watertown. And once he had custody, he could rethink the Bridges commitment. No one had said it had to be for life.
A couple of the guys eyed him when he picked up his toolbox. He gripped the handle. The supervisor knew about the arrangement. Rhys hadn’t seen any reason to broadcast it.
“See you tomorrow,” his supervisor called down from the roof where they were installing solar panels.
Rhys raised his hand over his head. The others waved back without any signs of begrudging his early departure. He should loosen up, he thought as he cranked the old pickup to life. Having some friends besides Pastor Connor could help when his custody request came before Family Court. He needed all the help he could muster.
A virtual finger poked him in the chest.
I know. I need to get up to speed at trusting You. Give me time. I’ve trusted only myself for too long.
Going back to the Thursday Bible study group wouldn’t hurt, either. Rhys hadn’t been there since the group had celebrated Renee’s birthday. For the spiritual support, he could tolerate the social aspects he was less fond of.
While he waited to turn onto US Route 74, he checked the dashboard clock. He’d have just enough time to get home to shower and change before he was supposed to meet Pastor Connor and the Bridges program director at the church office. He’d missed the volunteer training meeting when he’d been in Watertown, and today was the first meeting of the new group. Rhys had read the literature Pastor Connor had emailed him and was still uncertain about the group’s value, but it would give him another hour a week with Owen and Dylan.
A short way up the road, a dark-haired woman in a subcompact car cut a turn from a side road a little too close in front of him. He pumped the brakes, gritting his teeth against the word that leaped to his tongue and the picture of another dark-haired woman that popped into his head.
The woman in the car wasn’t Renee, but the Social Services’ worker had been in his thoughts far too often since their talk after the game on Saturday. With her background, Renee could be a good asset at a custody hearing. He grimaced. Except that the jury was still out on whether Renee was a friend or foe.
* * *
Rhys had made short work of cleaning up and arrived at the church a couple minutes early.
“Come in. Sit down,” Pastor Connor said when Rhys peered around the half-open office door. “Did you have time to look over what I sent?” he asked once Rhys was seated.
“I did.”
“What do you think?”
Rhys stretched his legs under the table, drew them back and planted the soles of his boots flat on the floor. “Can I be honest?”
“By all means.” The corners of Connor’s mouth quirked up.
“It strikes me as outsiders, institutions, meddling in families’ lives, especially since the referrals come from the school and CPS.”
“But you’ve agreed to participate.”
“Bottom line. I’m not connecting with Dylan, and I can’t afford private counseling. My health insurance is good, but there’s a higher deductible for specialists. The rent on the house is a stretch until I get better situated.”
“Fair enough.” Pastor Connor leaned back in his chair. “The Action Coalition isn’t only the Building Bridges program. It helps support several other faith-based programs and organizations, like my prison ministry.”
Rhys gripped the armrests and narrowed his eyes. He owed Pastor Connor and his prison ministry big time. Was the man looking for payback to get the Bridges thing going here?
“Rather than looking at Building Bridges as an interfering institution, try seeing it as God’s hand guiding His followers in helping families in need.” Connor grinned and Rhys relaxed.
“I can give that an apprentice’s try,” Rhys said.
“That’s all anyone can ask.”
The office door creaked open. “Renee, come in,” Pastor Connor said.
Renee. “I thought we were meeting with the director.” Nice job, Maddox. He accepted the well-deserved frown from Connor. Renee’s new job must be as the director of the Christian Action Coalition. That was some step up from a graduate student internship with Social Services. Was it a who-you-know rather than what-you-know position?
Rhys couldn’t help losing some confidence in the Coalition and its programs, nor stop the sinking feeling that Renee was acting again as a wall between him and his sons. At least he wouldn’t be dealing with her one-on-one after today. From what he’d read, each Building Bridges meeting had a designated facilitator. Pastor Connor had said the director would run the Hazardtown meetings only until someone had been appointed.
“Congratulations on your new job,” Rhys said.
Renee gave him a puzzled look. “Thanks.”
What had he done now? Rhys was well aware that his upbringing and incarceration hadn’t helped anything when it came to the nuances of interpersonal relationships. But what could be wrong with congratulating Renee on such a big career move?
Pastor Connor tapped his finger on the desk. “Let me clear things up. You must have missed the email I sent last night, Rhys.”
“I didn’t see it.” Rhys dropped his gaze to the desktop. He’d said enough about the health insurance and rent. He didn’t want to add that generally he checked his email only when he had free Wi-Fi so he didn’t use the limited data he had with his cell phone plan.
“Renee is the facilitator for our meeting and the other elementary school meetings in the county,” Pastor Connor continued. “Originally, the director was going to do the Bridges kick-off meetings this week because he wasn’t sure when he was going to have Renee on board and up to speed. But he was able to get her into the monthly training session at the national Building Bridges program in Atlanta this week when there was a last-minute cancellation.”
Rhys caught Renee’s side glance and the tilt of one corner of her mouth. He sank into the hard wooden chair as best he could. She’d picked up that he’d thought she was the Association Director. He’d known she couldn’t be. His logic filter had sent out alarms that the rest of his brain and his mouth had ignored. For whatever reason, Renee’s presence drained him of what intelligence he had. His blood heated with embarrassment, fueled by the hint of understanding he’d seen—or wanted to see—in her brief smile.
“I just got back this morning,” Renee said. “Hazardtown Community is my home church. I wanted to be here to get the program going.”
She certainly seemed excited, strikingly more so than he’d seen at any of their CPS meetings.
Rhys studied her while her gaze was on Pastor Connor. Her jeans, long-sleeved red T-shirt that brought out the pink in her cheeks and her dark hair falling down her back in a simple ponytail formed a picture of a more approachable Renee. Someone who lacked the icy veneer that the crisp, business-casual pants and drab shirts she’d worn at CPS had given her. Was this the real Renee? He shook the question from his mind. What did Renee Delacroix’s “true” identity matter to him?
“Is there a problem, Rhys?” Pastor Connor asked.
He must have shaken his head. “No.”
“Okay, then. We need to get things going. The kids will be here in fifteen minutes. Here’s the list of who we expect today.” He handed them each a sheet. “Five are here already in the child-care program and the other three, including your boys, Rhys, will be dropped off.”
Rhys read the list of six boys and two girls for the names of any friends of Owen’s or Dylan’s. He didn’t see any he knew. Not that he’d expected to. The friends he’d met—his boss’s son, Alex, and Renee’s nephew—or those Owen had mentioned, came from intact families. His chest tightened. That was the kind of family he’d wanted for his sons, the kind he and Gwen had had before he’d messed up.
“I have a short agenda for today’s meeting,” Renee said. She pulled a copy for each of the men from a leather bag on the floor between her and Rhys. “I thought I’d leave things open so we can get to know each other.”
Rhys laughed as he read the short bullet points. Introductions. A game. Food. “Hey, it sounds good. Playing and eating. I can handle this.”
Renee smiled with what looked to him like relief, but he dismissed the thought. She’d never seek his approval.
“I don’t have anything else,” Pastor Connor said. “Do either of you?”
Renee shook her head.
Rhys had in the ballpark of one hundred questions, but none to be answered here.
“Let’s close in prayer, then.”
Rhys folded his hands in his lap before he caught the motion of Pastor Connor reaching across the desk to them. He took Connor’s hand and reached for Renee’s, wishing he’d wiped his against his jeans first. Joining hands in prayer took some getting used to. The Bible study group he’d participated in with Pastor Connor at Dannemora hadn’t been as demonstrative as his church congregation’s. He bowed his head and blocked out the soft grip of Renee’s hand on his, along with memories of what it felt like to hold a woman’s hand not in prayer.
“And bless Renee and Rhys in Your service. Amen,” Pastor Connor said in closing.
“Amen,” he and Renee said, dropping hands.
Renee rose. “We’re meeting in my first-and-second-grade Sunday school room. Upstairs.”
Rhys stopped halfway between sitting and standing. “You’re Dylan’s Sunday school teacher?”
“I will be when classes resume in a couple of weeks.” She paused by the door while he straightened. “We can go right up. I already put the box of materials for the meeting and the snacks in the room.”
“I could have carried them for you.” Rhys hated how his voice had the same overeagerness he often heard in Owen’s.
“No problem.”
Rhys walked beside her in silence down the hall to the stairs, his mind swimming with potential problems. He cleared his throat. “Out of curiosity, did you know that I’d volunteered to work here with the kids?” He forced himself to breathe in and out evenly while he waited for her answer.
“I knew before I came today.”
She must not have known, then, when they’d talked on Saturday.
“I think it’ll be great for the kids,” Renee said.
But not for her, at least according to what he remembered about body language from the one psychology course he’d taken. She held her leather bag like a shield between them.
“You don’t have any problem with us, uh, working together, do you?”
“No.” She opened the first door at the top of the stairs and led him inside. “Why should I?”
Right, why should you?
* * *
Renee tucked the doorstop under the door as she waited for his answer—if he was going to answer at all. She understood how he might have seen her as an adversary in her position at CPS. But he didn’t need to carry it over to the Bridges program. They were both here for the kids.
“Hi, Miss Renee.” A little girl with long blond braids skipped past her into the room. “Mrs. Hill let me walk upstairs by myself, since this is my Sunday school room.”
“Hi, Emma. You’re right on time to help us set up.” Now that Emma was in the room, Renee let her question to Rhys drop, even though she would have liked to hear his answer. Any insight into the man would help them work together better, which could benefit both them and the kids.
The little girl looked at Rhys. “Who’s he?”
“He’s my helper, Mr. Ma—”
Rhys frowned, and Renee remembered him asking her to use his first name at the home visit she’d supervised at the Hills’ house.
“Mr. Rhys.” She corrected herself.
“Hi, Emma,” he said.
His face broke into a welcoming smile that charmed Emma. It also calmed some of the apprehension Renee had had about Rhys working with her and the children, while filling her with a wistful emptiness. Okay, the rational professional in her said. So he never smiles that way at you. Why should he?
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