Dag
“Don’t be stubborn, Dad.”
Ella is not impressed with my angry glare and stares me down.
“Fine,” I finally give in—no match for my daughter—and take a seat in the wheelchair she pulled from the back of the truck.
I fully intended to walk in upright, albeit on crutches, but the first available parking spot we found is two blocks from the courthouse.
Headstrong and at least as stubborn as her father, my eldest came home last month after all. She didn’t want Britt—who’d looked after me the first two weeks after I got home—to miss any more time at college.
I raised great girls, even though they’re responsible for most of my gray hair. These past weeks I’ve gotten to know them on a new level, spending more time with each of them than I have since they hit puberty.
I’ve never been much for talking, but for lack of much else to do, we’ve done a lot of it. I even talked to them about Bobbie.
It was Britt who asked about my fascination with the Gurin trial, which has been televised live on local cable since opening statements. For someone who rarely watches TV, I was glued to the screen, waiting for a glimpse of Bobbie, which piqued my daughter’s curiosity. She, ever the romantic, told her sister and since then the girls—first Britt and lately Ella—have kept track of the proceedings with me.
I still haven’t been able to talk to Bobbie, but Bruce has, as part of her security detail getting back and forth to the courthouse. He’s the one who mentioned she was toying with the idea of heading to the West Coast after the trial.
That’s why I’m here, on the last day of a long-winded, six-week trial. The case was sent to the jury yesterday after closing arguments and is expected to come back with a verdict shortly. I have no doubt it will be ‘guilty.’ Bobbie made a strong witness, despite the defense’s attempts to poke holes in her testimony and call her credibility into question. She came through with flying colors, sounding strong and at times showing glimpses of that fire I want to feel again.
I’m not gonna let her disappear to California or wherever the hell she intends to go. Not without giving her something to think about.
Ella wheels me into the courthouse, where the press is already awaiting the outcome. We get some curious glances—probably because of the wheelchair—but no one bothers us. At the end of the long hallway, Bruce is standing in front of the large double doors leading into the courtroom.
He grins when he sees us coming.
“Was wondering when you’d show up.”
“There’s no bloody parking around here,” I grumble.
“Hey, darlin’,” he greets Ella before cocking a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s in there. The judge just called the jury in.”
“We’ll wait out here.”
For the next forty-five or so minutes I find myself staring at the door, half listening to Ella recount some of her Australian adventures at Bruce’s prompts. Then suddenly the sound of loud applause comes from behind the courtroom doors.
“Guilty,” Bruce concludes.
Almost instantly the door opens and none other than Bobbie slips out, as I hear the sharp slap of the judge’s gavel attempting to call the room to order.
She looks good. No, great, actually. Sure, she has dark circles under her eyes from what I assume is lack of sleep and stress, and she may have lost a little weight since I last saw her, but the surprised smile lighting her face when she spots me makes her breathtaking.
“Bobbie.”
I wheel myself forward, meeting her halfway, and for once I have to look up at her.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, a little breathlessly.
“I’m here to see you,” I answer honestly.
A flush blooms on her cheeks and her eyes dart over my shoulder. I’d almost forgotten about Bruce and Ella.
“Hey, Bruce,” she mumbles.
“Bobbie,” he mumbles behind me.
Then my daughter steps in my line of sight, her hand held out.
“I’m Ella Toland.”
“The eldest daughter,” Bobbie says with a smile, as she grabs the offered hand. “Your father told me about you.”
Ella grins back. “He told my sister and me all about you too.”
That seems to take her aback as she darts a glance my way.
“I’m…surprised to see you all here.”
“Oh, we’re just here for support,” Ella chatters. “And to make sure Dad doesn’t chicken out,” she adds with a grin in my direction.
“Chicken out?”
Great, now she looks confused while Bruce chuckles in the background.
“Dad has a proposition for you.”
“All right, that’s it.” I reach for my daughter’s wrist, pulling her back. “I’ve had about all the help I can handle,” I grumble. “Can you give us a minute?”
“Better hurry,” Bruce shares. “Won’t be long before those doors open and then it’ll be a stampede. Come on, darlin’,” he says to Ella, putting an arm around her shoulder and leading her away. “Your dad’s got this.”
I catch Bobbie’s eye and indicate the bench along the wall.
“Would you sit a minute?”
“Okay,” she says hesitantly. “But I was hoping to get out of here before the courtroom empties.”
“Where were you gonna go?”
“Well, I was going to grab a hotel room and sleep for a week before deciding that.”
She shrugs but takes a seat on the bench.
“I’ll get to the point,” I promise, as I wheel myself close enough so our knees touch.
When I take her hand in mine, the disjointed feeling I’ve had for weeks is instantly replaced with a sense of balance, and I never want to let go again.
“As my daughter indicated, I have a proposition. It was actually her idea, but it’s a good one.”
She nods, listening intently, and I’m suddenly nervous. Almost forty-nine and I feel like I’m about to ask a girl to prom.
“As you can see, I’m still recovering and need some ongoing help. With Britt at college and Ella getting restless again—she’s already started planning her next trip—I want to find another solution. I know the girls would gladly put a halt on their lives to help me out, but I’d prefer they didn’t have to.”
I try to decipher the emotions crossing her face, but I’m having a hard time reading her reaction so far. Taking in a deep breath, I go for it.
“What would you think of moving in with me? The house is big enough,” I hurry to add. “You’d have your own space if you wanted to. It would give you some time to decide what you want to do.”
Now her face is completely unreadable and an uneasy feeling settles in my gut. I was so sure there was something between us, something we could maybe build on, but it’s possible I missed the mark.
I press my lips together to stop the urge to ramble.
“Is that the only reason?” she finally asks.
“What do you mean?” I return.
“The proposal you just outlined, is that the only reason you’re asking me?”
Her tone is firm but she’s furiously blinking her eyes against tears.
“No.” I lean forward and grab her other hand as well. “We’re both at a crossroads in our lives, trying to find a new direction, and I was hoping we could explore together.” Understanding flits over her face, but I want to make it perfectly clear. “I have feelings for you, Bobbie. For a while now, although I fought them hard, and if I’m not mistaken, you feel something too. I’d like to see where it leads us.”
The tears escape and I move my hands to her face, pressing a kiss to her lips. When I pull back, she’s smiling and her voice is sweet.
“I’d like that too.”
* * *
Bobbie
“We only have an hour and a half.”
“Chill, Britt,” Ella tells her sister.
It’s the middle of March and last night we had fresh snow fall, making our excursion into the woods behind the house a bit cumbersome.
We’re on the hunt for a suitable Christmas tree.
A little late, but none of us had much of a Christmas. With Ella flying out to Kenya on Sunday—the start of her new adventure—and Dag not too excited at the prospect, I thought it might be nice to get Britt home and lift his spirits with an overdue Christmas feast. Both girls were immediately on board with the idea.
This morning after Dag left for his ongoing PT and lunch with Bruce—he’s been back to driving himself for a week now—Ella rushed out to the airport to pick up her sister, while I started preparations for dinner tonight.
It’s been an interesting month since Dag showed up at the courthouse. Ella’s been around and she was happy to help me shop for a new wardrobe, but the last couple of weeks she’s been out a lot more than she’s been home, visiting with friends. That gave Dag and me some alone time, which we did our best to capitalize on.
I stayed in the spare bedroom, in part because his daughter was home, but also because he was in no condition for anything physical, and I thought it would be easier. That was probably a good call since we seemed to have a hard time keeping our hands to ourselves, given the chance. We still haven’t gotten naked together, but that is something I hope to rectify once the girls leave the day after tomorrow.
I smile against the sting of the cold mountain air on my cheeks.
“This is the one,” Ella decrees, standing next to a nicely shaped pine.
“It’s small,” her sister comments.
“If you want bigger, you’re gonna have to haul it down to the house and set it up by yourself.”
I grin at the siblings bickering. They seem to do a lot of that, but underneath it I can see they adore each other.
Half an hour later, we admire the tree in the corner on the same wall as the fireplace.
“It’s perfect,” I announce. “Now where are those decorations? We have less than an hour before he gets home.”
* * *
“Best weekend I’ve had in a long time. Best surprise too.”
I tilt my head back and smile up at him.
“Best Christmas I’ve had, ever,” I respond.
He dips his head and drops a kiss on my lips.
We drove both his girls to the airport earlier after an amazing weekend. There were hugs, and a few tears—mostly on my part—and Dag had been kind of quiet on the way home.
On Friday I was finally able to cook a proper Christmas dinner with all the trimmings and my friend, Jillian, joined us. Then the rest of the weekend we nibbled on leftover turkey and pie. I don’t think anyone other than Dag ever got out of their pajamas and we played cards and boardgames with the fire going the entire time.
When I was growing up, my parents did their best, but without a lot of family or any siblings, our Christmases were always kind of bland and quiet.
I don’t care this Christmas was almost three months late, it was the absolute best. There was good-natured bickering and plenty of laughs, and the whole weekend was steeped in family and love. Just what I’d always imagined it could be.
“Are you sad?” I ask when Dag’s eyes drift back to the fire he lit when we walked in.
“About the girls leaving?”
I nod in confirmation.
“Nah. They’re happy, so I’m happy.” The arm he has slung over my shoulder tugs me a little closer. “Besides, I’ve been waiting to give you some well-deserved attention.”
His voice gets all rumbly and heat floods my body. I squirm a little in my seat and put my hand on his still firm stomach.
“Is that so?”
“Hmm.” His fingers start playing with the shell of my ear and I almost purr at the wonderful tingles it’s sending down my spine. “It’s been a while.”
“It was only once,” I point out.
“Yeah, but it was very memorable,” he counters, and I can’t argue with that. “Been thinking about little else.”
It’s my turn to hum, letting the silent anticipation build as I draw a pattern with my fingertips on his stomach. Impatiently he cups my head, tilts my face up, and covers my mouth with his.
The kiss is deliciously languid and thorough, turning my body to butter, and I make a sound of protest when he breaks it off.
“You know when the doc told me I was ready to drive?”
I grin at the sparkle in his ice-blue eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Made sure he meant I was cleared for any kind of propulsion.”
I’m laughing out loud as I get up from the couch and pull on his hand.
“You can propel all you like, but it’ll be with me on top.”
“Damn, sweetheart,” he mumbles as he follows me toward the master bedroom. “Can’t wait to get my eyes and my hands on you.”
Emboldened, I release my hold on him, grab the hem of my sweater, and whip it over my head as I approach the bed. I turn, finding him still standing in the doorway, his breathing labored and his eyes hungry. Then I reach behind me, releasing the clasp on my bra and letting it fall to the floor.
I slightly lift my chin as I wait for his eyes to return to mine.
“So damn beautiful,” he mutters as he slowly limps toward me.
“I love you.”
The words have played in my head and my heart for a while, but I had no intention of letting them slip yet. Now that they’re out there, though, I’m not taking them back.
Not that I get the chance, because the next moment I’m lifted up and deposited on my back in the middle of the mattress, Dag looming over me.
“Was hoping you would, seeing as I love you.”