Amanda very quietly entered her apartment, not wanting to wake up Brittany or be caught slinking in like this in last night’s clothes. Brittany would want details, and Amanda would burst into tears. She’d been trying not to cry since she’d left Dalton’s Grange—in Holt’s truck.
Poindexter padded over for some attention, so she picked him up and nuzzled him, giving him a few good scratches along his back, then fed him breakfast. She could use coffee, but what she really needed was a hot, bracing shower.
It was under the water, washing away all traces of last night, washing away Holt’s scent, that she let herself give into how she was feeling—and she cried. Hard. Something had shifted deep within her. The way he’d let her inside, opened up to her, after such a tumultuous, emotional incident, had made her feel so close to him. And as she’d fallen asleep after they’d made love, she’d truly thought they were a united team, that they’d found their way to each other. Her heart had opened to him. Fully.
And this morning, she’d felt him close his own.
In her bathrobe, her hair damp down her back, she could swear she smelled coffee brewing, the chocolate-hazelnut roast she loved. Which meant that Brittany was awake. Thank God. Now that Amanda had gotten the crying out of her system, she could use some Brittany wisdom.
As she walked into the kitchen, her roommate, looking gorgeous as usual even though she’d just rolled out of bed, was studying her.
“So, I heard the door open and close a little while ago,” Brittany said, her dark eyes shrewd. “Then I heard the shower start. That tells me a few things. But I hope I’ve got it wrong.”
Amanda bit her lip. “You don’t, I’m sure.”
Brittany poured them each a mug of coffee and brought the creamer and sugar to the table. “That you didn’t come home last night means the night started out great. That you didn’t come home till 6:00 a.m. means the night ended great. But that you’re home this early and taking a shower here means something went wrong this morning.”
“Are you sure you’re not clairvoyant?” Amanda asked, smiling for the first time since she woke up.
Brittany took a sip of her coffee. “Oh, just been there, experienced that. But I’m usually the one making something go wrong and leaving.”
Maybe that was the way. Because then, you didn’t get hurt. But Holt had seemed as conflicted as Amanda was. “Everything was going great and then disaster struck. More like a tornado. We were having an amazing time together at that little Italian place at the end of Main Street,” Amanda said, thinking back to the restaurant, so romantic, the candlelit table, the delicious food, the good wine. “And toward the end of dinner, guess who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, picking up takeout. Holt’s ex-wife.”
Brittany raised an eyebrow. “The one who hasn’t been around in a few years? Why was she here? To spend time with her son?”
“An old friend was having problems, apparently. She wasn’t even planning on seeing Robby. I don’t get it. Neither does Holt. They had words about that, and he was so upset about his ex’s complete lack of regard for their child that I drove him home. Then we got to talking about it and one thing led to another and...we were in bed.”
“Tell me that part was good,” Brittany said with a gentle smile.
“Amazing. Beautiful. Everything I remember and everything I imagined being with him again would be like. I’m so damned in love with the guy, Brittany.”
“I know,” her roommate said, squeezing her hand. “So all the negative energy from the ex got pushed aside for something much better at his place last night, but then it all came back to him this morning?”
Amanda tilted her head. “You know, I didn’t really think about it like that, but yeah, I guess it must have. He said he felt unsettled, and I’m sure that was why. And maybe both parts of his past coming at him.” She sipped her coffee, wishing she understood better. “The ex-wife. The ex-girlfriend.”
“So what caused you to come home?”
“His son had slept over at his grandparents and Holt got called to come get him. Robby was either too loud or broke something or both.”
“Ah. The triple whammy. The ex-wife infuriating him. The hopeful second chance with the woman he never forgot. And his grumpy father, impatient with his son. All in one brief period of time. Enough to rattle the calmest of us.”
That made her feel better for herself—and terrible for Holt. “You think so?”
“The ex-wife’s appearance would be enough, Amanda. From everything you’ve said, Holt’s a really devoted dad. His son is the world to him. And the boy’s mother comes to town and doesn’t even arrange to see her own kid?” She shook head. “Holt’s probably just all tangled up. Wishing things could be different and knowing they can’t be.”
“Well, maybe he thinks we can’t be either,” Amanda said. “He just seemed so defeated this morning.”
“Give him a little time. I have faith,” Brittany said.
Amanda sighed. “Wish I did.” Maybe she would if she hadn’t been dumped by Holt once already.
“I know he picked you up last night, so you drove his car home this morning?”
Amanda nodded, then got up and headed for the fridge, needing some sourdough toast with butter and jam, pure comfort breakfast. “Want some?” she asked Brittany, holding up the sourdough bread.
“Sure do,” Brittany said with a smile. “Well, then he’ll come by some time this morning to pick up the car. You’ll talk then. And be smooching a big hot hello.”
Amanda laughed, then her smile faded. “He told me to just leave the keys in the truck’s console, so he doesn’t even have to come up for them.”
“Trust me, he’ll come up.”
Amanda hoped so. Or she’d go out of her mind wondering what was going on with them, what he was thinking. She didn’t want to be shut out. Not when they’d both let each other in.
After breakfast, when Brittany left to take her own shower, Amanda headed over to her laptop on the coffee table and checked her email—and almost jumped.
There was a response to her last post on the group chat site about adoptees seeking information on their birth parents. Amanda hadn’t had much information to share on the site, just the general birth year, possible birth place, which might not even be accurate, and the birth parents’ names—she kept it surnames only for privacy—but she’d hoped that would be enough to connect with someone out there. And for Josiah Abernathy and Winona Cobbs to be reunited with the baby girl they’d had to give up—the baby girl Winona had been told had died.
Amanda clicked on the email.
Hi. My name is Bernadette Jefferson and I was born in Rust Creek Falls and placed for adoption with a loving family. When my parents passed on, I found a document in their keepsake trunk with the name Abernathy—it was with my birth certificate. Abernathy isn’t a very common name so I think I might be who you’re looking for. I know my birth parents would be very elderly if still alive. This is the first time I’ve had hope so thank you for that! Please be in touch at your earliest convenience.
With hope, Bernadette Jefferson
Amanda burst out of her chair, scooped up Poindexter and danced him around the living room. “Poin! I think we found the long-lost baby daughter of Winona Cobbs and Josiah Abernathy! After seventy-five years!”
Poindexter did not seem to care, but he liked being held so he went with the dance.
“Ooh, I have to text Mel right away!” She put down the cat and ran for her phone. It was six thirty, but she had to tell Mel this great news right away, even if it meant the notification would awaken her and possibly Gabe if she was at his ranch this morning. Amanda knew her friend would want to know about the response right away. Especially because it was so promising. Abernathy wasn’t a common name. And the timing and birth place matched!
She copied and pasted the email into a text and sent it to Mel. Five seconds later, her phone pinged back.
Omigosh! Mel texted. You’re amazing—thank you so much for helping us! This is our first real lead and it sounds so promising! I’ll respond to her. Thanks again, Amanda!
The email and Mel’s response had done wonders for Amanda’s battered spirit.
The half-mile walk to the main house had done little to clear Holt’s head. The way he’d treated Amanda... He’d reached for his phone three times to at least text her an I’m sorry, then put it back in his pocket. He had to break the urge to connect with her. The yearning for her. He had to let her go.
He’d taken Bentley with him, letting the dog walk along unleashed at his side. In the distance he could see Robby kicking a soccer ball, his grandmother sitting on the wraparound porch, cheering him on. Neal Dalton was nowhere to be found.
“Bentley!” Robby shouted, and came running, the border collie sprinting toward him. Robby dropped to his knees, hugging and kissing his beloved dog, the boy rolling on the grass and Bentley following suit.
This was what childhood was supposed to be, Holt thought. Exactly this. And making mistakes. And accepting the consequences for them. But those consequences right now included a grumpy, impatient grandfather. Holt had always thought Robby and Neal Dalton would have to meet each other halfway—Robby being more mindful, particularly when he was around his grandfather, and Neal being more patient and understanding that his grandson had a harder time controlling his impulses than some other kids.
If your father can’t change, Holt’s mother had said once, I don’t know why he expects a little boy to be able to change.
Holt had appreciated that then, that his mother understood. But in the year Holt and Robby had been just a half mile away, the boy spending a lot of time with his grandparents, Neal Dalton hadn’t become more accepting of his grandson.
As Holt got closer, Robby catapulted himself into his father’s arms, and Holt lifted his boy up and held him tight. He loved this child with all his heart. Everything was right here.
His mother waved with a big smile and went inside, then came back out with a bowl of what looked like water, Holt’s dad behind her. She set the bowl down by the door—for Bentley, he realized with a smile—then called Robby into the house for lemonade and a muffin. Thank God for his mother. She was the one who’d asked Holt to rethink his no about working for his father, living on Dalton’s Grange, and he’d say yes all over again for his mother’s sake. But it was time for him and his dad to come to terms about the way he responded to Robby. Given his father’s expression right now, which was along the lines of I’ve-had-it-up-to-here and Holt’s matching thought, he had no idea how this conversation would go.
Look, Robby’s teacher had said when Holt had been honest about his dad’s impatience with Robby at home. That’s part of the consequences of Robby’s behavior. And part of your job is helping Robby manage that—from dealing with people’s negative reactions to his behavior, from strangers to classmates and staff, to family. It’s all valid, Holt.
“Finally,” Neal Dalton said as Holt got closer.
Holt glared at his dad. Sometimes, he’d see his father in front of the grand, majestic mansion and he’d try to reconcile the man he’d always known with this new rich Neal Dalton who owned this beautiful home and all this land. This successful ranch. His father had changed—because his wife’s health scare and a big pile of money had given him a second chance.
It’s what you do with what you have, Holt thought as his father came down the stairs.
So why the hell can’t I apply that way of thinking to me and Amanda? Why am I so sure it’ll all fall apart?
Because it always does, he reminded himself, thinking of Sally Anne.
His mother came back out with a doggie biscuit, which she set on the cushy mat in front of Bentley, who was enjoying the shade. She gave the dog a pat.
“If you can’t be more patient with Robby, then I don’t think you should be around him, Dad. He needs people on his side. Yes, he needs guidance and correction—from me, his parent—not you. Do I make myself clear?”
His father seemed taken aback. “How dare you talk to me like that!”
“I dare because I have to.”
Neal Dalton shook his head. “Trust me, Holt. You were the same way as Robby at his age and I said the same nonsense—oh, he’ll grow out of it. And look what happened when you got older. Making trouble, getting arrested for nonsense. Running wild. Marrying a woman who doesn’t even care about her own child.”
Holt winced, feeling like a left hook had just landed in his stomach. What the hell?
“You’re done telling me who I am or who I was. I’m proud of the man I’ve become. And I’m damned proud of the father I am.” He glanced behind his father to the house. “Robby!” he shouted. “Come on out, buddy. Time to go.”
“’Kay, Daddy!” Robby shouted back, racing out the door and down the steps, half a muffin in his hand. It was clear from his tone that Robby hadn’t heard any of what his grandfather had said. “Come on, Bentley. Race ya home!”
Robby and the dog went flying up the path.
“When Robby breaks his leg and lands face-first in that muffin in his hand,” his father said, “don’t cry to me.”
Holt shook his head and turned to his mother. “Mom, if you’d like to see me or Robby, it’ll have to be at my place. I love you but I’m done here.” He hugged his mother, glared at his father and then turned and walked toward home, his heart heavier than it was when he’d left his house, and that was saying something.
On Monday afternoon Amanda arrived at Holt’s house for the tutoring session with Robby, not sure he’d even open the door. But he did. He hadn’t called or texted since yesterday morning when she’d left his bed. She’d thought for sure he wouldn’t let the day pass without at least a text, just something, but not a word.
He stood in the doorway, looking both gorgeous and miserable.
“I’m here to tutor Robby,” she said, lifting her chin. She wasn’t going to let her issues with Holt stop her from keeping her commitment to help Robby with reading.
“I know I said we’d talk. And I want to, Amanda. Can you stay after?”
She nodded, and because she knew him better than she thought, she could tell he was relieved—that she was here, that she actually wanted to talk to him at all. Then again, he probably just wanted closure on this—to end their budding second chance.
She’d never felt so...up in the air. Before—with Holt, with Tyler and his hellish text right before their wedding—she’d had no doubt where she stood: a big fat nowhere. Things had been over, kaput. Now? This? She didn’t know. And that was bad too. Hell yeah, they’d talk after.
Upstairs, she found Robby preparing for their tutoring session as he always did, taking his favorite books from his bookshelf and making a pile. Bentley was on his bed and Oliver was on his perch.
“Hey, Robby!” Amanda said.
He ran over for a hug, talking a mile a minute about his camp-out sleepover with his uncles at the main house, how they’d made s’mores and Shep had brought out his telescope and he saw the Big Dipper and a zillion stars and maybe even planets.
“But then I broke stuff in the kitchen and Gramps yelled at me,” he said, tears welling in his big blue eyes. “He told me I never learn and he’d had it.” He looked at Amanda, biting his lip. “Do you think that means he doesn’t want to be my granddaddy anymore?”
Amanda felt her eyes sting with tears. She sat down on Robby’s bed and patted the space beside her. He came and sat down, wiping under his eyes.
“Did you talk to your dad about this?” Amanda asked.
Robby nodded. “He said that my gramps will always be my gramps no matter what and that he loves me very much. And Daddy also said that Gramps needed more patience and that I needed to be more careful. But I tried to be, I really did. I just wanted to make my gram and gramps coffee.”
Amanda put her arm around him. “I know, sweetheart. And that was very thoughtful of you. I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted. Maybe next time you want to do something like that, you could ask for a grown-up’s help, like one of your uncles. That way, if anything breaks, they’ll get in trouble and not you.” She gave Robby an evil grin.
Robby laughed. “Hey, yeah, that’s a really good idea. My dad is always saying I should think hard first before I decide to do something. And next time I’ll think to ask someone for help.” He nodded, brightening so much that Amanda’s heart moved in her chest.
Oh, how she loved this boy.
“I picked out two books to read. Did you know that Rocco the Raccoon loves spinach? I tried it cuz of that and it wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be. Not like broccoli.” He scrunched up his face. “I hate broccoli.”
“I looove broccoli!” she said. “I can’t wait to hear the Rocco story about spinach.”
Robby grabbed the book and settled onto the floor on top of his round reading rug, white and blue with silver stars and lots of floor pillows. Bentley jumped down and curled up beside him. Oliver watched from his perch, then closed his eyes again.
As Robby sat beside her, tongue out in concentration, finger moving under the words, Amanda knew she wasn’t giving up on this family. She loved both father and son with everything she was.
She’d give Holt his chance to say what he wanted to say. And then she’d make some decisions. Hard ones.