By the time they reached her dad’s place, shadows blanketed the compound, cloaking the house and ponderosa pine grove in darkness. As the Jeep rolled to a stop in the gravel, Emily held her breath and searched for signs of life.
Ian studied the house. “Doesn’t look like he’s home.”
True. Not one light shone on the grounds. No pole lights lit the perimeter and no house or porch lights burned. But Emily knew better. She squinted hard at the front room window.
A faint glow came from somewhere inside, maybe the kitchen or a bedroom.
She nodded. “He’s in there.”
Ian cut the engine. In the sudden quiet, a chorus of crickets burst into crescendo, filling the void.
“Ian, are you sure?”
He rested his back against the door and faced her, but didn’t answer.
“Okay, sorry. I’m not second-guessing you, really. I’m just ...” She leaned against the headrest. Warning you. Because I know what to expect. And because I don’t.
“Emily, if you don’t want to do this, we can keep going.”
“No, I do.” She flipped down the visor and checked the mirror. She’d inherited her mom’s big, brown eyes and long, loose curls. She couldn’t do anything about the eyes since it was too dark for sunglasses. But the hair ... In two swift moves, she twisted her hair up and secured it with a clip. Checked the mirror again. Maybe this time things would go smoothly. She hoped.
Ian had followed her movements and studied her new look in silence, but he didn’t question her. “All right, then. Let’s go in.”
They climbed the steps to the front door, knocked, waited, knocked again. From where they stood, Emily could see her dad’s Suburban parked behind the house. She caught Ian watching her. Straightening, she knocked harder.
The door opened.
At the look on Dad’s face, her hope fizzled.
He stood in the doorway and stared at her for several long seconds. Other than a fleeting flash of surprise, his face gave away no emotion.
“Hi, Dad.” She forced a bright smile.
“What do you want?”
I’m fine, thanks for asking. How are you ... “We were in the neighborhood. I hope you don’t mind us dropping in. Just for a minute.”
Dad’s gaze shifted to Ian. He gave him a brief once-over with the same impenetrable look. He shrugged, turned, and went inside, leaving them to follow.
Stacks of books, newspapers, dirty dishes, and brown, glass bottles cluttered the dark living room, making the barely furnished space feel more like a cave. A combined odor of stale beer and moldering trash hung in the air.
Emily winced. “Dad, this is Ian MacLean, Aunt Grace’s nephew from Scotland. Ian, my dad, Ray Chapman.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ian held out a hand.
Dad lobbed a glance at the offered hand.
Emily held her breath.
After a moment, he took it without looking at Ian.
“I’m sorry we didn’t give any warning.” Emily repressed the urge to see if Ian was taking in all the clutter. “We were just heading back from Newport. Ian needed to meet Aunt Grace.”
For the first time, her dad looked Ian directly in the eye. “Where are you staying?”
“In Juniper Valley. At the High Desert Inn.”
With a frown, her dad just stood there studying Ian. Dad wasn’t quite as tall as Ian, but he had a similar build. At fifty-six, he was still lean and strong, but it suddenly occurred to Emily how much he had changed in the last few years. His graying, brown hair reached past his collar, untended like a wild thicket, and his jaw sported more than a weekend’s worth of coarse, graying stubble. The lines in his forehead and around his mouth had grown deeply etched, giving him a grim look.
Rough and grizzled, he’d become a stark contrast from the daddy Emily remembered as a little girl.
He crossed taut arms and waited.
Waiting for me to get out of his sight, as usual. Lifting her chin, Emily drew in a deep breath. “Ian leaves for the Portland airport before dawn.”
“When’s your flight?” Dad said.
“About ten. My plan is to be on the road by three.”
Ian seemed calm.
Emily, on the other hand, thought someone had cinched up all her nerves like shoelaces and tied them in a knot. Maybe getting her dad talking about himself would loosen things up a little. “So, Dad, when’s your last day at the high school?”
“Two weeks.”
“Do you have any plans for the summer?”
He didn’t answer but continued to stare at Ian, frown deepening. “How are you related to Grace Clark?”
“Grace is my grannie’s sister. So she’s my great-aunt, same as she is Emily’s.”
Her dad shook his head “No. Not the same.” He gave a slight nod toward Emily. “She’s only related to Grace by marriage. Through the uncle.”
She. Emily ignored the pang in her gut. He wouldn’t say her name, would hardly look at her. Which was nothing new. But why point out that Emily and Grace were not related by blood? Did he think Ian should now assume responsibility for Aunt Grace?
“Whatever the connection, Emily and Grace seem very close.” Ian spoke with a calm, friendly confidence. If he wondered where her dad was going with the topic, he didn’t show it.
Dad bent down and stacked piled-up books and papers on the nearest chair. “Better stay close to her. Grace isn’t getting any younger. She could die any day.”
Emily gasped. The quiet steel of his words sliced through her as she forced back angry tears. He doesn’t realize what he’s saying, Em. Let it go. She didn’t look at Ian, but concentrated on keeping her voice from shaking. “You’re right, Dad, Aunt Grace is getting older. But she’s happy. And I will do everything I can for as long as it takes to make sure she stays that way.”
Stiffening, Dad stopped what he was doing.
Ian made piercing eye contact with Emily.
She couldn’t guess his thoughts. He had assured her he wanted to come, but maybe he was kicking himself now. Please, Lord, let something good come from this visit. I have no idea what Mom thought I could do for him, but this is so not working. How can I help pull him out of this cave-dweller life if he won’t even look at me?
Ian’s deep voice cut through her thoughts. “No one wants to think about losing those we love.” He kept a level gaze on Emily. “Even though it’s inevitable for us all. Perhaps it helps Emily to know she’s spending as much time with Grace as she can.”
Dad spun around, but Emily watched Ian. No matter how things turned out, she loved that he tried.
Her dad looked from Ian to Emily and back to Ian. “You married, MacLean?”
Emily held her breath. Here it comes ...
“I’m widowed.”
“Widowed?” Pain flashed through her dad’s eyes and his face sagged. “When?”
“Katy died nine years ago.”
Dad raised trembling fingers to his lips and scanned the room. His eyes lingered on the half-empty beer bottle beside his chair. He walked toward it but then veered toward the picture window overlooking shadowy woods. He stood with his back to them. Moonlight glowed from the window, giving his silhouette an odd film-noir look.
“Any kids?” The question bounced off the glass with a flat echo.
Frowning, Ian nudged a yellowing newspaper with his foot. “No. We discovered her cancer soon after we married.”
The quiet regret in Ian’s voice stabbed at Emily’s heart. What a blow he must have suffered, not only to suddenly lose his wife, but also their dreams for a future, a family.
Ian turned and locked eyes with her.
“What’s he doing here?” Dad said, his voice tight.
“I told you. Ian needed to see Aunt Gr—”
“No, here. In my house.”
Definitely shouldn’t have brought Ian. “Dad, I’m just checking in. Like families do.”
He muttered something.
“Emily thought it would be good to spend some time with you,” Ian said quietly.
Dad spun around and stared at Ian. His body trembled, and for the first time since they’d arrived, his face twisted with emotion. “Were you at your wife’s side every day, down to her last breath? Did you watch her die?”
Emily’s pulse raced. “Dad, that’s enough—”
“As much as ... as I was allowed.” Ian’s face went rigid.
“And did spending all that time with her help?” Dad’s voice fell to a hot whisper. “Did it make you happier when she died?”
“Dad!” Emily gasped.
Ian stiffened. “No happier than you were, I suppose.” The sound of his quickened breathing filled the tense silence.
“I know why you’re here,” Dad said, his voice low. “But I don’t need your help. And I don’t need your parenting advice, since you’ve never been a father.”
A wave of queasiness rolled up from Emily’s gut. Oh, Lord, what was I thinking, bringing Ian here? What have I done? She went to Ian’s side and laid a hand on his arm. “Come on, Ian. Let’s go.”
Ian didn’t take his eyes off her dad. His brow pulled into a deep frown. “Aye, you’re right, Ray. I don’t know what it’s like to be a father. But I do know having family who loves you is a rare gift. Only a fool would waste it.”
Emily held her breath.
Dad stepped away from the window. For the first time, his full attention rested on Emily. Pain crept over his face. Then, going rigid again, he turned to Ian. “My family is my business, MacLean. Your business is far from here. The sooner you get back to it, the better.”
“Your family?” Emily croaked. “Are we a family, Dad?”
Dad stiffened briefly, then shook his head and stormed out of the room.
No? And why not? Because she gave up fighting on my account? Because you wish ...
A familiar pain tore through her, ripping open the same old scar. Emily closed her eyes and willed the tears to stay back. Dad was a deeply broken, grief-stricken man. He didn’t know what he was saying. He’d lost the ability to care about anyone, including himself.
“Emily?”
When she opened her eyes, Ian stood near, his face a mask of strain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him.”
She shook her head, bringing up tears in spite of her best efforts to quell them. “It’s not you. Let’s just go. I’ll call him later—”
Dad reappeared, locked his sights on Ian, and headed straight for him.
Ian braced himself and looked at him head on.
Emily couldn’t move. Oh no, God, no, please ...
Dad came face to face with Ian. “You leave the States tomorrow?”
“Aye.”
“Good. You’re only wasting your time here.”
As they faced off in the crackling silence, Emily sensed something unspoken passing between the two men.
“We’re leaving now, Dad.”
In three quick strides, Dad was at the door. He held it open.
Ian and Emily followed.
At the threshold, Emily glanced at her dad, hoping for something, though she didn’t know what.
He drew back, and as soon as they passed through, the door slammed.
By the time they returned to the main road and headed east, Ian’s pulse had returned to nearly normal. The traffic on these long, straight stretches of high desert road was nothing but a passing car now and then. After they reached Juniper Valley, he could grab a few hours of sleep before his long drive to the airport.
If he could sleep.
“I’m sorry, Ian. I shouldn’t have taken you there.” Emily’s voice sounded tight.
“You did warn me.” Though ‘not very friendly’ may have been a slight understatement. “And don’t apologize. You’re not responsible for him.”
She stared at the road with a dazed look.
“Has he always been like that?”
“No.”
Ian tried to imagine Ray Chapman smiling with an arm resting round his daughter’s shoulders but couldn’t picture it. “When did he change?”
A long silence. “A little while after Mom died.”
Grief did strange things to a man, but it didn’t explain Ray’s behavior toward Emily.
She stared into the dark, but there was little to see.
Perhaps they shouldn’t have stopped at her dad’s. Since losing Katy, Ian found himself challenging things that kept people apart. Especially stupid, senseless things. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe being with people didn’t always fix what was broken.
“He’ll see what he’s doing to himself and to you, eventually.”
“I used to believe that. I used to hope God could help him, but now ... I don’t know.”
Aye. God can only help a man who isn’t beyond help. Some things are too dark. Some roots twist down too deep.
Another quiet mile passed with no sign of another car.
The silence tugged at his chest. “Are you sorry we stopped?”
She shook her head. “No matter what he does, he’s still my father, and I love him. I’m just sorry that seeing me bothers him so much.”
“Emily, it’s not you, I’m sure it’s—”
“You saw him, Ian. He can barely look at me.” She turned away.
The way she held herself, so stiff and straight, reminded him of the last soldier left on the field, bracing to finish the battle alone. How could a man treat his own daughter that way? She didn’t deserve it. In fact, Ray didn’t deserve her. Heat seared his veins. “Whatever the reason, it’s his choice. He’ll regret it.”
She faced him. “Are you sure he has a choice?” The glitter in her eyes took on a neon green from the dash lights. “I don’t think so. Do you know why he can’t stand to see me? I tried to tell myself it was because I remind him of her.” She yanked the claw-toothed thing from her twisted-up hair and shook her head, letting the silky waves tumble loose round her shoulders. “But that’s not it. He hates me because she’s gone and I’m still here. He wishes it had been me instead of her.”
Idiot! He smacked the steering wheel hard enough to make his palm sting. Ray Chapman had already broken Emily’s heart once, and Ian had just handed her over so he could do it again.
He whipped the Jeep to the edge of the road, spraying gravel into the ditch. Adrenaline surging, he killed the motor and turned to face her. “This is all wrong.”
With trembling fingers, Emily unlatched her seat belt. “You know what? You’re absolutely right.” She scrambled out of the Jeep. “I need some air. Give me a minute.”
Emily trudged along the silent road, sandals slapping the asphalt. There wasn’t a car or house in sight, nowhere for her to go.
When she’d gone several metres from the Jeep, he jumped out and jogged toward her. “Emily.”
She kept going.
He reached her, caught her arm, and turned her round. “Emily, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you go there.”
Her face was pale in the milky moonlight. “You didn’t. It was my choice to see him. And I knew what to expect.” Her glistening eyes pleaded. “Ian, it’s okay.”
“Okay?” Ian caught a sharp breath, stunned. A man shouldn’t be excused for wounding others in such a callous, selfish way. A familiar band of fury tightened round his heart, gripping him in its monstrous claw. But the pain in her face gripped him harder. He steadied the thunder in his voice. “No. It’s not okay.”
She offered a teary little smile and gave his hand a squeeze.
The courage and grace in those eyes clutched his chest so tightly he could hardly breathe. Fix it, MacLean. Do something.
“Maybe we could pray,” she said.
“Sorry?”
“For my dad.”
It took playing her words back a few times before he understood what she wanted. “Right, then.”
She took his hands.
He closed his eyes and a moment of quiet passed. Oh. She wanted him to do it. What was he supposed to say? How could he pray for the wretched man when he hardly knew how to pray for himself? He cleared his throat. “God, please help Ray not to be such a ... uh ...”
Do it right.
A growl escaped as he exhaled. “Please help Ray get over whatever makes him this way.” He swallowed to loosen the anger that threatened to choke him. “I pray he won’t have to live with the torment of knowing what he threw away. He’s missing out on spending time with someone who loves him very much. Help him see what a priceless gift that is.”
A few warm droplets splashed onto their clasped hands.
He drew a deep breath. “And please help Emily know how much You love her. With the sort of love that never grows cold.” He had no idea where those words came from, but, somehow, they were right. “Give her peace. Help her feel Your arms round her. In Christ’s name, amen.”
Without another thought, he pulled her into his arms.
She was in Ian’s embrace. And he wasn’t letting go.
She closed her eyes and relaxed, savoring the weight of his arms surrounding her.
Ian pulled her closer, held her tight. His heart pounded against her cheek like a caged wild thing.
Numbed by such tender strength, she soaked up his warmth, felt it radiate through her. She’d not been held this way for quite some time and it felt so good, so right.
Like an exile being welcomed home.
I could stay here forever ...
Emily lifted her face. Ian’s dark eyes blazed into hers. Without thinking, she whispered his name.
His gaze fell to her mouth, sending a tingle through her lips as though they’d been touched. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession.
As he lowered his face to hers, she could barely breathe. His warm breath bathed her lips, sending her heart racing as he came closer.
Then, without warning, Ian let her go like a hot iron and stumbled several steps back.
Emily staggered to steady herself.
Plowing a hand through his hair, Ian scowled at the ground. “Let’s get you home,” he said, his voice tight.
The remaining miles ticked by like a silent countdown clock. Though they’d been on the road nearly an hour, she could still feel the impression of his enveloping arms. That roadside embrace had left her dazed. Not only because of the way he’d pulled her close and held her, but also because of the intense craving it had stirred in Emily. Regardless of what his intentions had been, she would have kissed him. Caught up in the pure bliss of the moment like a starved stray, she’d forgotten herself. She was too sensitive, too vulnerable. She would have to be more careful in the future.
Whatever that was at the side of the road, it definitely wouldn’t happen again. It couldn’t.
They reached Emily’s house a little after 11:00 p.m. Ian followed Emily to the door, started to speak, but stopped. A thick silence hung between them.
As they stood on the porch, a warm desert breeze rose and fell in gentle gusts, brushing strands of hair lightly across Emily’s face, but the storm brewing in Ian’s dark eyes captured her full attention.
She trembled and drew a shaky breath. “Doesn’t look like you’ll get much sleep.”
“I’ll catch up.” He examined a chip on the wooden porch post. “I didn’t sleep at all last night.” He frowned as soon as he said it.
“Neither did I.” Her cheeks burned, but in the dark, maybe he wouldn’t see. “Will you do me a favor and call when you get home? So we know you made it okay?”
He nodded.
“I’m part lifeguard, part worrywart. Can’t help it.” She offered a light smile.
His eyes fell to her mouth and lingered, then he looked away.
Did he know what she was thinking? What would he say if she told him she’d never been kissed? No, Em. Don’t. Her heart thumped so hard he could probably hear it.
Ian faced her again, his eyes dark as a hurricane. “Emily, when we stopped on the side of the road, when I—”
She sucked in a sharp breath, chest hammering.
He looked out over the dark valley. “I want to apologize. That should never have happened.”
Right, I agree. Yet the grim set of his profile sent her heart plunging to her stomach. Her gaze fell to the wooden slats between their feet as she fought the tightness in her throat. She lifted her head. “There’s no need to apologize, Ian. I’m not—”
His grim look had deepened to one of anger.
Why?
The visit with her dad had left her feeling broken, probably sending off distress vibes. Ian had responded to that by reflex. Against his will.
I messed up. The thought zapped across her nerves, numbing her.
Ian cast a brief look in her direction but wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Good-bye.” Without another word, he thundered down the steps and stormed to his car, feet pounding the packed dirt.
The car’s engine roared to life. Spitting sand and dust, the Honda tore out of the drive.
She fumbled with her house key and barely made it inside before the dam burst.