“Hey, what was going on over at Coach’s house today?” Tee asked as she and Corinne cleared the table from dinner. Callan had gone upstairs to write a report due on Monday. “I saw a bunch of cars there, including Uncle Drew’s, but then they were all gone by the time I was done with my Revolutionary War project profile. Did they have to move more stuff in?”
Corinne shaded the truth to give Gabe time to figure things out. “A case they’d been working on needed some fine-tuning.”
“On a Saturday when he moves into a new house?”
“The law never rests.”
“I guess.” Tee rinsed the last bowls and tucked them into the dishwasher, then asked a question she hadn’t asked in a long while. “Do you still miss my dad?”
Tee never called Dave “Daddy.” Was that because she’d never known him, despite Corinne’s efforts to create a relationship that didn’t exist on a physical level? She didn’t know. She swiped a wet cloth to the table and answered as honestly as she could. “Every day. But not like it used to be.”
Tee scrunched her brow, waiting for a deeper explanation.
“Your dad and I loved each other. And when he died, my heart just about fell apart. It kind of shattered into a gazillion little pieces, like when the ice breaks apart in the spring.”
“Crunching and crackling and groaning.”
“Exactly. But then you were born, like the best gift God could have possibly given me.” Her words inspired Tee’s smile. “Callan was two and I was so busy taking care of both of you that I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I missed him like crazy, but then it was more like I missed him because of what you both missed. Hearing him laugh. Hearing him sing.”
“Was he a good singer?”
“He was a terrible singer, but he was funny, so we all overlooked it. And he loved you guys so much. And me.” She wrung the cloth out over the sink. “There was this big, empty hole in our lives because he was missing, but as you guys got older, it wasn’t a hole anymore. It was like a space, growing smaller and smaller because we were filling up our lives with our times. Our memories. Our songs.”
“I miss having a dad sometimes.”
Tee wasn’t the type to wax sentimental often, so Corinne set the washcloth down and waited.
“Not like when you’d expect it.” Tee wrinkled her face slightly. “You know like the father-daughter breakfast at church and the father-daughter race for the homeless.” Tee liked running races for good causes. She was born to run, fearless and free. Organized sports worked well for Callan, but not for Tee, the classic nonconformist.
“I miss it most when we do normal things. Like moving here. Or when there’s a school concert. Or even sometimes in church, when it feels like everyone has a father except me.” She didn’t sigh or whine. She glanced around as if looking for answers and none came. “I’m glad you and Grandma and Grandpa told me all about him. I’m glad we’ve got his pictures here. But there’s still this feeling when I look around, that something’s missing. Something important, even though Grandpa always tries to take Dad’s place.”
“But it isn’t the same, is it?” Corinne kept her voice soft.
“No.” Ever pragmatic, Tee raised her shoulders. “But it isn’t bad, either, Mom. I don’t sit around fussing over it.”
Tee didn’t sit around, ever.
“But I think of it at the weirdest times, and then I wonder what I’ve missed. At least Callan got to meet him.”
Corinne’s throat tightened. Her hands tensed, because even though Callan didn’t have any real memories of his dad, he was part of Callan’s early reality. Not Tee’s. Pictures of Dave with Callan had places of honor in several rooms. None of that existed for her precious daughter. “Your dad didn’t have to see you born to love you, Tee. He loved you from the moment that pregnancy test said you were on the way.”
“I know.” Tee edged away, not wanting to be convinced, or maybe not needing to be convinced. Corinne wasn’t sure which it was. Not really. “But it’s not the same as having him hold you. Is it?” She set the towel down when the phone rang in the next room. “Shana Moyer is going to Skype with me for our project so I can see what she got done today. I’ll take it upstairs.” She answered the phone and dashed up to her room, leaving Corinne alone.
Tee talked a lot, but she evaded important subjects on purpose. Corinne had learned to wait for Tee to open up most conversations, but now with puberty, would she have that option on a regular basis?
Not always.
She updated her online calendar while things were quiet, and when Tee came back downstairs nearly an hour later, Corinne pointed out their upcoming schedule. “If we want to have time to put up outside decorations, we’ve got to jump on it quickly. Otherwise the festival takes over our lives and the weather will turn and we’ll be making a big job out of a normal one.”
“And we still haven’t taken the boat out once this fall, and only four times over the summer.”
She didn’t have to say that Callan’s sports schedule took precedence. Corinne already knew the truth in it. “I know.”
Tee didn’t pout this time, and Corinne was pretty sure that was worse. She was quietly accepting that her mother didn’t prioritize her feelings or needs, and when your mother was the only game in town, that had to bite deeply. “I’m sorry, Tee.”
Again, no fuss. No whine. Tee gave her an almost no-reaction look, then headed for the stairs. “I’m going to bed, Mom. See you in the morning.”
No kiss good-night.
No hug.
And she wasn’t being a brat, she was simply guarding herself from disappointment.
Guilt sideswiped Corinne. She was tied up the next couple of weeks because she’d signed on to run the festival again, but in trying to be a community leader, she was messing up what little time she still had with her daughter.
Callan’s baseball team swallowed a huge bunch of family time three seasons a year. Four, if you counted winter workouts.
And all this time Tee had gone along, as if family life centered on Callan. All she’d wanted now that they lived in the lake house was time to enjoy the proximity to the lake. And her mother had been too busy to make that happen.
Lights shone next door as Gabe’s car pulled into his driveway, then his garage. She waited, expecting a light to come on inside.
None did.
His house stayed dark.
He was coming home to a shadowed, empty house. Did he know that Drew had asked Kate Gallagher to keep the baby for right now, to give Gabe time? Did he know she was in good hands?
He cared.
She saw that right off, and she saw something more. Much more.
He cared too much, maybe, because when he looked down at that baby, it wasn’t just fear that creased worry lines in his face. It was fear mixed with wonder, as if the greatest joy and challenge lay before him.
Lord, help him with whatever this is. Whatever’s going on. Help him to come to peace with this, one way or another.
Drew had made an on-the-spot decision to keep the baby out of the system, buying Gabe time. But little Jessie couldn’t be left in limbo forever, which meant Gabe needed to make either peace or a decision before too long.
* * *
Gabe woke up from a broken sleep possibly more tired than when he lay down. He needed coffee and maybe a run to clear his brain. A few miles of fresh air and a quick pace might help him figure things out. He stepped out of the house with Tucker by his side. Tee’s voice hailed him almost instantly.
“Hey, Coach!”
She waved furiously from the deck as she crossed toward the car. She was dressed for church, and while a part of him wanted to take off, he couldn’t do it. He paused as she approached, looking vibrant and full of life and love. “Mom said we’ve got to get going on our outside Christmas stuff today because the weather’s supposed to be nice, only we don’t have a ladder high enough for over there.” Tee pointed to the roofline facing the water. “Everybody that stays for the winter decorates both sides so that folks can see the ring of lights around the water.”
Another thing he’d never considered, how a small-town lakeside community would have its holiday traditions even though he’d noticed the lit houses reflected in December waters.
“It’s really beautiful to see,” Tee added. “Do you have a taller ladder at your house?”
Christmas lights. Decorations. No place to run, nowhere to hide. That reality broadsided Gabe as he faced his excited young neighbor. “In the garage, hanging on the wall.”
“Tee. I told you not to bother Coach.” Corinne came out of the house just then. She had her purse over her shoulder and keys clutched in her hand, clearly in a hurry. “Grandpa has a tall ladder. I’m sure he’ll be happy to bring it over.” She faced Gabe and he saw it again, the concern he’d read in her eyes the day before. “Each season I discover something else I didn’t realize I’d need living down here. The tall ladder is only the latest item. My grandfather didn’t hang lights from the roof, but the kids love them.”
“My ladder is right here.” He pointed backward. “No sense bothering Pete to come over.”
“That’s actually a good point,” Corinne noted before she called out Callan’s name. She moved toward the car as Callan appeared on the deck steps. “Pete’s doing great since his cancer treatment, but he suffers from vertigo if he’s up too high. If he brings the ladder, he’ll want to do the upper reaches himself. I’m not after a trip to the ER today.”
“And Coach said we can borrow his,” Tee reminded her.
“Then thank you, Gabe. We’ll grab it after church.” She made no mention of yesterday’s drama, and drove off with the kids as if it was all normal.
It wasn’t normal, and he didn’t like people knowing that.
He’d traded the anonymity of being in a small house on a farm-friendly country road for this spot on the water, next door to people who knew him as well as anyone from Grace Haven. He’d kept his life private, purposely, but now...here...doors of silence were being wrenched open.
He took the first mile too fast.
Not for Tucker. The tricolored collie mix took everything in stride, unlike his owner. And by the time they finished mile three, not knowing what had happened with Adrianna’s baby was driving him crazy. He texted Drew when he and Tucker got back from the run. How is Jessie? Can I see her?
Drew texted back quickly. Tucked in temporary care. Doing fine. And yes. On my way to church right now. Is later okay?
Gabe typed quickly. Yes.
The house felt emptier when they returned. The unlikelihood of that weighed on him, because the house was the same as it had been when he bought it a few weeks before.
And yet different, somehow, because there’d been a baby here, as if she belonged here. She didn’t, of course. And yet...
Tucker nuzzled his snout beneath Gabe’s hand, and then he went to the door and cocked one ear, as if asking a question.
Stop thinking about it. If this was a police case, how would you handle it?
Only he couldn’t relegate it to impersonal status.
He looked next door.
What did Corinne think of him? Of his behavior? His reaction?
It shouldn’t matter what she thought, but something in her expression made him think she might understand.
Well, she can’t if you don’t talk about it. And you never talk about it.
He hit his mother’s number on his cell phone. The call went straight to voice mail.
Agitation spiked his pulse. He didn’t like things in flux. He liked to know what was happening, and when, every single day. He didn’t consider himself regimented. He was...orderly.
Think. Pray. And maybe giving yourself over to God’s plans would be a good start.
He carried the ladder next door so he could lock the house, then gathered his fishing gear. Yesterday’s cold blast had mellowed to a soft, fall day. He’d take the boat out, drop a line and think things through. He liked praying in church most times, but nothing beat a man, a lake and a solid-grip fishing pole.
* * *
Corinne stretched from the upper rungs, trying to loop as many feet of lights as she could without climbing down and moving the ladder, but when it began to list with her at the top, she was really glad the porch roof kept the whole thing from skidding to the ground.
“Come down from there. Please.”
She turned, startled by Gabe’s deep voice. “Gabe. You scared me. I didn’t see you come back.”
“Well, I did just in time to see this ladder almost fall over. Come down, there’re plenty of things to do at ground level. I’ll do this.”
She shook her head instantly. “Don’t be silly. I’ve got this, I—”
He stared up at her. The look on his face managed to erase any form of rational thought. She didn’t dare let that become a regular occurrence, but how could she stop it with him living next door? He kept his voice softer now, but not much. “Please? My arms are longer.”
They were, and she knew she’d been stretching the limits by leaning so far to the left... “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Finally she climbed down. He held the ladder firm until she was on the ground, then he hoisted it. “I should have offered to do this for you earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“Gabe, it’s fine. We don’t expect you to jump in on every crazy family project we do, and this...” Corinne indicated the various lighted projects with a wince. “This is what happens when you combine my grandparents’ decorations with ours and Tee wants to use every single one.”
“Sounds like Tee.”
“Or a National Lampoon movie,” Corinne muttered. “But they’re growing up so fast that I hate to say no over something like this.”
“Do you want the lights to wrap the porch posts, too?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Got it.”
He didn’t say anything about yesterday’s events. Neither did she. As she helped organize the resin nativity set, a group of lighted reindeer, two inflatable Charlie Brown and Snoopy scenes from her grandfather’s favorite Christmas special and cord after cord of twinkle lights, Tee’s chatter and Christmas music filled the air with promise of the upcoming holiday season.
Gabe worked, eyes forward, focused and silent.
He didn’t sing. He didn’t smile. He didn’t join in Tee’s chatter.
Tucker sat at the base of the ladder, looking up. He wagged his tail whenever Gabe glanced down, and even a firm curmudgeon couldn’t ignore the dog’s obvious affection. And when Callan called Tucker over for a game of Frisbee catch midday, the dog didn’t move. He stayed right by Gabe’s side until his master’s work was done.
“Such loyalty deserves a reward, my friend.” Corinne slipped Tucker a piece of sliced ham, then petted his shaggy head. “You’re such a good boy.”
“He is.” Gabe tipped the ladder down, then balanced it carefully from the middle.
“Coach, I’ll help you carry it back.” Callan took the front end without being asked. “Mom made sandwiches and the one o’clock game started half an hour ago. Wanna watch it with us?”
“Wish I could, but I’ve got some things to take care of this afternoon.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Callan fumbled the words, as if embarrassed he’d had the audacity to ask. His quieter nature meant he didn’t put himself out there like his younger sister, so he wasn’t as accustomed to rejection.
“Next week?” Gabe’s question smoothed what could have been an awkward moment, and Corinne blessed him for it. “I’ll be ready to relax over a game once the festival is over.”
Callan’s eyes lit up. “That would be great.”
“Is that all right with you, Corinne?”
What choice did she have? It wasn’t a date. It was a neighbor, coming by for football and nachos. “Sounds good. I’ll put a pot of something on and we can just relax for the afternoon.” That was what she said, but the thought of relaxing around Gabe Cutler was an impossibility. But that was her problem. Not his.
His phone rang after they’d rehung the ladder. He took the call and paced toward the water, talking quietly. And when he disconnected the call, he stayed where he was, staring at the calm, thin stretch of Canandaigua Lake, unmoving.
“Coach, I can’t wait to try the lights tonight! Our first Christmas on the water and so many decorations! Isn’t it the coolest ever?”
Quiet moments of grave introspection were brief when Tee was around. She raced across the yard and seized Gabe’s hand. “Won’t it be beautiful?”
He looked down, as if he couldn’t help himself. Did Tee recognize the pain in his face?
Probably not, but her mother did. Gabe looked at Tee, then the house. He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. “Sure will.”
“And I’m turning every radio station we have to the Christmas channel,” she declared, still wringing the big guy’s hand.
“Tee, it’s not even Thanksgiving yet,” Callan protested as he stowed a box of supplies in the back of their detached garage. “Give us a break, okay?”
“If we weren’t supposed to listen, the radio station wouldn’t play them all day. But I’ll leave yours alone,” she added as if being magnanimous. “Mostly because you’ll kill me if I mess with your stuff.”
Callan laughed. “Glad we see eye-to-eye on that.” A car pulled into the driveway to drop off two of Tee’s friends. Callan made a pretend face of fear, and headed for the house. “Family room is off-limits to girls during football if they giggle and talk like you do.”
“Worse than me, by far,” Tee promised him, then laughed. “See ya, Coach! Thanks for helping!”
She ran to greet her friends, and then they disappeared into the house, too, leaving Corinne with Gabe. She crossed the driveway to thank him. “I appreciate the help, Gabe.”
His jaw firmed. He glanced from decoration to decoration, almost grim. “It’s okay.”
Not “happy to help” or “glad to do it,” and that was all right, because Corinne was pretty sure he wasn’t happy to do it. And yet he had.
“Coffee?”
That perked his interest, but then he surprised her by pointing at his place. Not hers. “Drew’s coming by in a few minutes.”
If ever a man looked like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, it was her new neighbor. “With the baby?”
“Yes.” He didn’t sound one bit resolved. “I haven’t heard back from my mother. I don’t know if she’s aware of any of this, but I can’t leave it like this. Babies don’t belong in limbo. They belong somewhere. With someone.”
She believed that, too. “Then coffee at your place sounds good to me.” She didn’t ask if he’d made any decisions. It wasn’t her business. But she’d dealt with parents in crisis and grief far too many times over the years, and Gabe Cutler fit the profile.
Whatever he chose—whatever he decided—she prayed it might relieve some of the angst he tried so hard to hide. Angst that seemed to go far deeper than a thirtysomething bachelor, trying to live his life. And how did she know this?
Because she was guilty of the very same thing.