Falling for the Single Dad Page 6

  Something they had in common after all.

  Caroline rested her hand on Max’s tousled hair. “After you finish in the kitchen, maybe you and I could go out on the porch. I know a thing or two about science. We could build the catapult to beat all catapults if you’d like.”

  Max grinned. “Cool.” He pivoted toward Amelia. “Can I, Mimi? Before bedtime?”

  Amelia nodded. “For a little while, but it’s a church day tomorrow. Bright and early.” She faced Caroline. “I hope you’ll join the family there.”

  Braeden held out his hand for Max. They departed to assist Honey and Sawyer prepping for tomorrow’s guest breakfast.

  Caroline hugged the baby. She’d hoped to avoid the Kiptohanock church. Last time she’d been there had been for her mother’s funeral.

  “I wanted to also apologize for not being there when Lindi d-died.” Caroline steadied her wobbling tone. “I was the next oldest. It should’ve been me who took care of Max and Dad and Honey. Not you. You gave up art school for them.”

  Caroline tensed, expecting to find condemnation in Amelia’s eyes. But only compassion rippled across her sister’s features. Amelia feathered a stray curl behind her baby’s tiny ear.

  Patrick smiled at his mom, but lay content in Caroline’s arms.

  “Max is my son as surely as Patrick. God has a way of working things out.” A smile played across Amelia’s lips. “Sometimes in the giving up of what we think we need, along the way we discover what we want the most.”

  Caroline stared at her sister. “I love you, Amelia. And no matter however long Dad tolerates my presence, thank you for letting me come home.”

  “Looking back, you and Dad are so much alike. Including the way you suffer so quietly.” She cupped her hand over Caroline’s cheek. “We probably should’ve said or done something, tried harder…”

  Caroline passed the sleeping baby to Amelia. “Not much anyone can do. We’ve each got to struggle through the tunnel of grief the best we can.”

  Struggle through till you reached the light at the end. Caroline wondered if that was what she was really doing, returning to Kiptohanock. And she also wondered if she’d ever manage to reach the light at all.

  Amelia nestled her baby son in her arms. “Don’t you give up.” Her eyes flashed. “You hear me? Don’t quit on us. And you’ll make it. I know you’re going to make it.”

  Caroline’s heart skipped a beat. Somehow Amelia knew or suspected…

  “So you’ll come to church tomorrow?”

  Might that be another step toward reaching the light?

  She released a breath. “I’ll try.”

  “That’s as much as any of us can do. Just try.”

  *

  “… baby shower next month…”

  Facing Reverend Parks at the podium, Weston heard the faint scrape of the hinges on the vestibule door. Beside him in the pew, Izzie started to turn, but he captured her shoulder with his hand and anchored her firmly in place.

  “Eyes forward, Seaman,” he whispered in her ear.

  She made a face but focused on the stained glass depiction of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane on the wall behind Reverend Parks and the baptistry. A focus that only lasted till the reverend’s next remark.

  “… know you church ladies will want to help celebrate this most momentous of occasions in Honey and Sawyer Kole’s lives…”

  Izzie tugged on his shirttail. “I’m a church lady.”

  He frowned and put a finger to his lips.

  A welcome breeze from the unseasonably sultry early June morning wafted into the sanctuary, courtesy of the open door. Many of the older Shore buildings didn’t have air-conditioning.

  He inserted a finger between the collar of his polo shirt and his neck and tugged. Not a mistake he intended to make with the lighthouse renovation, ocean winds notwithstanding.

  A lock of Izzie’s hair fluttered. Turning, Izzie’s face lit as if an internal light had switched on.

  “Hey, Caroline.” Izzie waved in a frenzy of motion. “Caroline’s here, Daddy.”

  Across the sanctuary, blond, brunette, red and gray heads swiveled toward the foyer, where Caroline Duer stood frozen like a squid caught in bright lights. Then, like a boom on a sailboat, the townsfolk’s gaze swung as one toward Weston and his daughter.

  Izzie clambered onto the pew. Her knees pressed against the curve of the bench. “Sit with us, Caroline.”

  He took hold of his daughter. “Izzie,” he hissed.

  “It’s Caro—”

  “Get down…” He peeled her off the pew.

  Reverend Parks cleared his throat. “Great idea, Isabelle. Let’s take a moment to greet each other on the Lord’s day before we sing our first hymn.”

  He stepped off the platform and was the first to reach Caroline. Who was still paralyzed—apparently struck mute—in the middle of the aisle.

  Weston grimaced, absorbing her embarrassment. If she’d hoped to slip in unnoticed, so much for that. Thanks to Isabelle Alice Clark.

  As the congregation mixed and mingled amid the rousing piano rendition of “There’s a Sweet, Sweet Spirit,” Seth Duer remained immobile. His gnarled knuckles slowly turned white from clutching the pew in front of him.

  Weston glanced over his shoulder. His pulse ratcheted as two rosy spots of color bloomed in the aquatic vet’s cheeks. Caroline Duer needed a rescue. His throat constricted.

  Izzie tugged on his shirttail. “Daddy, let’s go say hi.”

  Before he could act, Max darted into the aisle and latched on to his aunt’s hand. When he pulled her into the family pew, Seth Duer went ramrod stiff. Caroline lifted her chin and stared straight ahead.

  The veterinarian appeared in that moment to Weston to resemble old paintings he’d seen of saints before the lions. And he found himself admiring her guts. She must have known coming home—coming here today—wouldn’t be easy.

  Owning the consequences of your actions never was. That he knew something about. His own hypocrisy smote Weston. He was ashamed of how he’d condemned Caroline yesterday at the lighthouse. He’d acted as judge and jury without knowing both sides of the story. And after what had happened with Izzie’s mother, he was the least qualified person on the planet to be handing out judgment on anyone.

  Weston’s heart thumped with the longing to make things better for the veterinarian. To help her make things right with her family and the community. It seemed to him he’d never met a braver person. Not on a storm-tossed cutter. Nor a beleaguered sailor in the face of certain death. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  Eyes narrowed, Reverend Parks called the assembly to order. Lips compressed, with great deliberation, he closed the flap of his e-tablet on which he kept his sermon outline. “Please take your seats.”

  Reverend Parks gripped the sides of the podium with both hands. “I’ve decided to change my sermon this morning to a passage dear to my heart.”

  Across the aisle, Weston couldn’t keep his gaze from straying toward Caroline.

  “Open your Bibles to the Gospel of Luke, chapter 15.”

  The reverend paused at the sound of flipping pages. Weston helped Izzie locate the Scripture in her petal-pink kids’ Bible.

  Reverend Parks waited until every eye met his. “Today…” His gaze roamed across the congregation before resting on Seth Duer in the third row. “I want to talk to you about prodigals.”

  Weston felt rather than saw Caroline flinch. Her chest rose and fell with the difficulty of taking a steady breath. His heartbeat accelerated.

  Did the reverend intend to publicly humiliate Caroline Duer? He and Izzie hadn’t been here that long. Not yet a year. Weston glanced around at the assembled congregation. The atmosphere was thick with tension. So silent you could have heard the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. His stomach muscles knotted.

  He sensed that beneath the brittle exterior Caroline donned, there was an inner fragility. Which made her courage more remarkable. What did t
he reverend intend to say? Would his words destroy any chance the vet had for winning support for the marine animal rehab? Worse yet, would the next few minutes destroy Caroline herself?

  Weston gritted his teeth. He unconsciously curled his hands into fists. He wouldn’t allow them—Reverend Parks included—to bully the turtle lady. Not on his watch.

  “‘And while the son was yet a long way off,’” Reverend Parks read the Scripture, “‘the father saw him and felt compassion for him. Ran and embraced him and kissed him.’”

  Weston found himself holding his breath, praying for this unknown woman with whom his daughter had formed such an inexplicable bond. A bond he shared?

  “And so we must celebrate.” Reverend Parks leaned into the podium. “The child who was dead has now begun to live. A child who was lost but later found.” Tears swam in his Delmarva-blue eyes. “A child who is very much like every one of us,” he whispered.

  What followed was a lesson in grace so tender and so profound those who were privileged to hear Reverend Parks that day would later declare it to be the finest exposition of the gospel they’d ever heard. Made more powerful by the usually soft-spoken man of God who spoke with such fire and passion.

  At the last hymn, no eyes were dry. Reverend Parks made his way to his usual spot at the door to greet his flock. But as the last note died away and ascended into the wooden rafters of the old church, Caroline launched out of the pew like one of the rockets at Wallops Island. She lurched toward the vestibule, a stricken look on her face.

  Izzie charged into the aisle before Weston could stop her. The reverend halted Caroline at the exit with a quiet word. By the time Weston caught up to them, Caroline had regained control of her breathing.

  Reverend Parks took hold of her hand, “… my office… Tuesday morning…?”

  Her eyes were hooded, but she nodded. Reverend Parks released Caroline’s hand, and she hurried down the church steps to the lawn toward her car.

  “I didn’t get to talk to her, Daddy.” Izzie’s mouth quivered. “Not this morning at the rescue center, either.”

  He gnawed the inside of his cheek. Lost child returned to the Kiptohanock fold or not, he couldn’t allow this woman to wound his child. Was avoidance the answer to wean Izzie from her attachment to the vet? Or would more intentional encounters disabuse Izzie of her affection for the complicated black sheep Duer?

  Izzie pressed her cheek into the fabric of his shirt. His daughter was only now beginning to trust him with the things that mattered to her. And this woman mattered to Izzie.

  “Come on.” He captured Izzie’s hand. “Dr. Duer?”

  The lady vet rummaged in her purse for her key.

  He hurried Izzie across the lawn. “Dr. Duer?”

  The vet clicked a button on the key chain and reached for the door handle.

  Weston towed Izzie into the parking lot. “Please wait… Caroline…”

  Her head snapped up.

  “You didn’t say hello.” Izzie flung herself at Caroline. “Why did you run away?”

  Falling against the car, Caroline wrapped her arms around his daughter. “I needed some air. I…” She glanced at him, her face conflicted. “I’m sorry.”

  He wondered why she believed she had to apologize. After his cold condemnation of her yesterday at the lighthouse, he should be the one apologizing to Caroline Duer.

  Weston’s eyes were drawn to the pulse beating a furious tempo in the hollow of her throat above the neckline of her sleeveless sundress. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She looked away over the headstones on the adjacent hillside. “Eventually, I think…” She bit her lip. “Maybe…”

  She laid her hand on Izzie’s head. “Good morning, Ladybug. What’s up with you today?”

  “Daddy and I watched the turtle eggs last night to be sure nothing happened to them. We slept in a chair on the beach and did everything you said.”

  “A chair? On the beach? All night?” Caroline’s eyebrow rose. “Kemp’s ridley eggs have an incubation period of forty-five to fifty-eight days.”

  He gave Caroline a lopsided smile. “Izzie is nothing if not enthusiastic. Remind you of anyone?” He made a show of rubbing his back. “Thanks a lot, Doc.”

  She smiled back.

  His heart did a curious flip. Someone should’ve warned him about Caroline Duer’s smile. He’d gotten the impression she wasn’t a woman given to smiling a lot.

  She rocked Izzie in the folds of her dress. “I don’t recall telling you to pull an all-nighter. It’s early days still.”

  “We stopped by the lab before church, and one of the college students said Turtle Mama was doing great.”

  Caroline cupped her palm over Izzie’s cheek. “Yes, she’s doing better than we expected.” Her thumb caressed a stray freckle.

  His heart lurched at her unconscious tenderness for his child. “Caroline—”

  A beeping sounded from her purse.

  “Oh. Sorry.” Caroline released Izzie and scrabbled through her tote bag. She examined her cell phone. “A text from the intern manning the Stranding Response Team phone. We’ve got another incoming patient found by one of the Coastie fast boats.”

  She placed a quick kiss on Izzie’s rumpled curls. “I’d better head to Wachapreague and meet them at the center.”

  “Wait, Caroline…” Izzie caught her arm midmotion. Caroline’s bracelets jangled. “I need to ask you a question first.”

  “Okay, Izzie.” Caroline pulled free and fiddled with the stack of metallic and woven bracelets encircling her wrist. “What is it, Ladybug?”

  “Are you going to Honey’s baby shower?”

  Caroline moved toward the car door. “Yes, I am.”

  Izzie inserted herself between the vet and the car. “Me, too. But would you go shopping with me and help me pick out something to wear?”

  Caroline paused, her hand on the door. “Um…” She flicked her eyes at Weston.

  “You have plenty of clothes you can wear, Izzie.”

  Izzie lifted her chin. “I don’t have a dress.” She gestured at the purple T-shirt and capris she’d worn to the church service. Every day in coastal Kiptohanock was casual. Sundays, too.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t need a dress to look nice.”

  “Caroline’s wearing a dress. Doesn’t she look nice in a dress, Daddy?”

  His turn to stammer. “Uh…”

  Actually, Caroline Duer looked like a well-groomed version of Jackie Onassis in flip-flops. Nice didn’t begin to cover it.

  Caroline tilted her head. And waited.

  “Yes, she looks very nice, but that doesn’t mean you…” He raked his hand over his head. “You know fashion isn’t in my wheelhouse, Monkey Girl.”

  Izzie seized hold of the car door. “Caroline could take me shopping.”

  He reddened. “Izzie, I’m sure she’s busy.”

  “I’d love to take Izzie shopping.” Caroline gave him a defiant look. “Why don’t you bring her to the rescue center later this week—say Thursday—about four o’clock?”

  Izzie bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yay!”

  “You don’t need to—”

  “And you’re welcome.” Caroline slipped behind the wheel.

  His lips quirked. “Like you said yesterday, I’m sure I would’ve managed somehow, but…”

  She laughed. “Not much of a people person, are you?”

  He closed the door with a soft click. “People, like fashion, can be complicated. I’m better with blueprints.”

  Weston leaned his elbows against the car window. “Will you allow me to fix dinner after you and Izzie return from your shopping expedition? I could give you a tour of our home-slash-work-in-progress.”

  She smiled at him. “I’d like that. Till then?”

  He nodded and pulled Izzie a safe distance away. Caroline waved as she headed out of the gravel lot.

  Till then. His mouth went dry. Had he lost what little
mind he still possessed? What had he done?

  Chapter Six

  Caroline didn’t know what she found more disturbing. That she was having dinner with the Clarks. Or how much she was looking forward to having dinner with the Clarks.

  Okay, with Weston in particular, although she was as equally thrilled to spend the afternoon with Izzie. Honey—the real Duer fashionista—had directed Caroline to check out a new boutique in Onancock.

  The talk with Reverend Parks on Tuesday morning had gone well. He’d been surprisingly candid about his own struggles with grief after the death of his first wife and a child. He was easy to talk with and not shocked when she told him what she’d done three years ago. She couldn’t believe she’d come clean to this near stranger. But she felt lighter after sharing her mistakes.

  “I’ve known your father for years,” Reverend Parks told her. “My mother was the closest thing to a friend your grandmother Kate had in those days. My mother’s greatest regret was in not acting sooner. In not forcing Kate’s secret into the light of day and therefore preventing a tragedy.”

  Caroline shook her head. “I’m not sure I follow what you’re saying.”

  “Hurts only grow more painful if not lanced before they fester.” He’d dropped his gaze to his hands, steepled on his desk in the church office. “It was only after your father’s heart attack that Seth finally opened up to me. Now we meet once a week over Long Johns at the Sandpiper. It’s been good for both of us.”

  “Secrets? Grandmother Duer?” Caroline scanned the reverend’s features. “I don’t understand.”

  A frown puckered the bridge of the reverend’s nose. “I thought…” He flushed. “I think you and your father should talk.”

  “Why can’t you tell me?”

  “Because it’s not my secret to tell, and healing often comes in the telling. Would you like to meet again?” The reverend opened his hands. “Just to talk while you’re here this summer?”

  Caroline found herself agreeing. “Maybe over ice cream?”

  The reverend patted his stomach. “Great idea.”

  She spent the next two days working with an IT student at the community college to create a website for the pilot program. She did a local radio interview and presented an informative turtle talk at the elementary school. Anything to keep from dwelling on what she’d gotten herself into—dinner with Weston Clark.