by Lisa Jordan
Somehow.
* * *
It had been the kind of night where someone could have died.
And if Isabella Bradley had shown up any later, then she would’ve had to start planning her father’s funeral.
Tucker hated storms, particularly tornados, but last night’s downpour was a close second.
Especially when they had returned to the station and changed into dry uniforms, only to be called out again for a motor vehicle accident—a rollover with fatalities this time.
He and Dalyn had transported Joe Bradley to the emergency department, and as much as he’d wanted to sit with Bella until Joe was stabilized, they had returned to the station only to be called out again. Not the way he wanted to end his twenty-four-hour shift.
Pulling the bloody young man off his barely breathing wife, who didn’t survive the trip to the ER, despite being less than ten minutes away...yeah, it was getting old.
The dude’s sobbing echoed Tucker’s grief after losing his own wife nearly three years ago.
The kid’s life wouldn’t be the same again. He’d have to learn how to wake up and face the day by himself. Grief would be his new companion, coloring his world in shades of gray and despair.
No matter how many calls Tucker responded to, it never got easier. And last night’s events churned up a storm within him—the unsettled feeling that change was inevitable.
Because if Tucker didn’t make some changes soon, he was going to be out of a job. Then he and his five-year-old twins were going to be in a bigger mess than they were now.
In the two months since they’d moved out of the farmhouse—to give his newly wedded father and stepmother the privacy they deserved—and back to the house Tucker had shared with his late wife so his twins could get settled before school started six weeks ago, he’d been hit with one disaster after another. That included hiring and firing two nannies before finding Mandy, who was the perfect fit for his family.
With his operations supervisor’s veiled warning—or “a bit of advice,” as he called it—ringing in his ears, Tucker pulled into the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires of his silver SUV.
Dragging himself out from behind the wheel, he trudged to the back door, his eyes gritty and fatigue pressing down his shoulders. Inside the laundry room, Tucker unlaced his muddy boots and toed them off. Meno, his sister-in-law’s goldendoodle, appeared at his side, his tail wagging and tongue ready to lick his face.
“Hey, boy.” Wrapping his arms around his neck, he brushed his cheek against the dog’s silky fur and closed his eyes for a second. Any longer than that and he’d fall asleep sitting up.
All he wanted was a hot shower and to crash, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not with an exam to study for, a paper to finish and three chapters to read.
What made him think he could handle college classes to become a grief counselor with a demanding job and raising five-year-old children on his own?
Because he wanted to help others who were grieving to find hope.
A glance at his watch showed he had about ten minutes to see the twins before they needed to be walked to the end of the driveway, where their bus would pick them up. Then he could crash for a few hours before diving into homework.
When was the last time he’d gotten a full eight hours of sleep?
These days he’d be happy with five or six.
Hence Franco’s warning of burning his candle at both ends.
He stepped into the kitchen. Leaning a shoulder and his head against the doorjamb, he sighed.
An opened box of Cheerios had been tipped over and spilled onto the floor with an open milk jug next to it. A stool sat next to the sink, and the cabinet door above the counter hung open. A small stream of water trickled into the sink, splashing over last night’s dinner dishes that hadn’t been loaded into the dishwasher.
Tucker scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed away from the doorway. He followed the sounds of laughter and music into the living room and found Landon still in pajamas sitting on the couch eating cheese balls from an oversize plastic barrel and his eyes glued to the TV.
“Hey, Lando, planning to go to school today?”
His eyes not leaving the cartoon, Tucker’s son wiped his orange-stained hand across the front of his shirt and shrugged. Meno munched on cheese balls that had fallen on the floor.
Tucker grabbed the remote and flicked off the TV. He pulled the plastic barrel of cheese balls out of Landon’s arms and snapped the blue plastic lid on top.
“Dad, I was watching that and eating those.” Landon reached for the cheese balls.
Tucker held up the container. “This, my man, is not breakfast. Where’s Mandy? And your sister?”
“Mandy’s crying in the bathroom.” Landon imitated with exaggerated sobbing noises, then laughed. “I couldn’t hear my show, so I closed the door. Livie’s acting like a baby.”
“Why’s Livie crying?”
He shrugged, then rolled his eyes. “Dunno. She cries at everything. Why are girls so ’motional all the time?”
Tucker bit back a smile and gestured to the heap of couch pillows piled on the floor. “How about if you put these pillows back where they belong and pick up your toys? Then you can head to your room and get dressed for school.”
“I can’t, Dad.”
“Why not?”
“The pillows protect me from the burning lava.”
“Landon...” His tone left no room for argument.
“Fine, but don’t blame me if my feet burn up and fall off.” Landon picked up the first pillow and rammed it onto the couch, pushing at it with his stomach.
“Let’s risk it, okay?”
With one fire put out, Tucker left the living room, set the cheese balls on the kitchen table and then headed down the hall to find Olivia burritoed in her fleece cupcake-printed blanket in front of the bathroom door. He knelt beside her and brushed tangled blond hair out of her face. “Hey, princess.”
Spying him, Olivia launched herself into his arms, tripping over her blanket as fresh sobs shook her tiny shoulders. “Daddy, I’m so glad you’re home.”
“What’s up with the waterworks?” He sat on the floor and pulled her into his lap.
“Dad-d-dy, is Mandy leaving us?” Hiccups punctuated her words.
“Leaving? Why would you think that?”
“She said.”
Ice slid through his veins. Tucker closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. He couldn’t afford to lose another nanny. Not now. “How about I check on Mandy? I’m sure everything’s going to be okay.”
“You p-promis-se?”
As he peered into her sweet face that looked so much like her mother’s, it made his heart ache. He wanted to promise and wipe away the tears from her wide blue eyes. But life, especially the last few years, had taught him not to make promises he couldn’t keep. “How about you get dressed, then I’ll drive you and Landon to school?”
Livie covered her mouth and giggled. “Silly Daddy. There’s no school today.”
“What do you mean, there’s no school?”
“It’s parent-teacher day, remember? Mrs. Saar said she’s ’cited to meet my daddy.”
Tucker groaned and buried his face in his daughter’s shoulder. So now in addition to having a trashed house and school assignments due, he had kids home all day and needed to work around two separate conferences for them.
So much for getting any sleep today.
With Livie still in his arms, Tucker pushed to his feet and carried her down the hall to her room. He opened the door and set her on the unmade bed. “Get dressed while I check on Mandy, okay?”
She nodded, but instead of moving toward her closet, she picked up one of her many stuffed animals and burrowed beneath the covers. Tucker cast a long look at her pillow and forced himself to leave t
he room. He headed back to the bathroom and knocked quietly on the door. “Mandy, is everything okay?”
The bathroom door opened, and he saw his twenty-three-year-old nanny sitting on the beige bath mat with her back pressed against the tub. Dressed in an oversize red T-shirt and navy running shorts, Mandy pulled her knees to her chest and wiped her watery eyes with a soggy tissue.
Tucker opened the linen closet and reached for the only washcloth on the shelf, trying to ignore the overflowing laundry hamper, and ran it under warm water. He wrung it out, then handed it to her.
She took it and covered her face. Sighing deeply, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Tucker, but I can’t do this anymore.”
Despite being muffled by the wet cloth, her words arrowed his gut.
Tucker leaned a shoulder against the door frame and shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Do what, exactly?”
She dragged her fingers through her short dark hair and sighed. “As much as I love Landon and Olivia...and working for you, I need to give you my notice—effective immediately.”
His fingers tightened into fists, and he schooled his voice to keep the welling panic from spilling all over the bathroom. “What’s going on?”
“Sean broke off our engagement last night.” Fresh sobs racked her shoulders. Once the tears subsided, she pulled the cloth off her face, and the hurt around the frayed edges of her voice made his chest ache for her. “I’m moving back home.”
“I’m so sorry. That really stinks. Sean’s the one missing out.” He released a sigh. “Is there anything I can do to get you to reconsider? More money?”
She looked at him with large, watering eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry. You deserve better than this, but I just can’t stay in Shelby Lake. Every place I go reminds me of him.”
He understood all too well.
She pushed to her feet. Her dark-circled eyes indicated she’d slept very little last night. “I’m really sorry. My parents are flying in tonight, helping me to pack up my apartment, then we’re driving home to North Carolina.” She twisted the wet rag between her fingers. “Is it okay if I say goodbye to the twins?”
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
She pushed past him, and he leaned against the sink, cradling his head in his hands.
What was he going to do now?
Sure, he could ask Dad and Claudia to help out, but that was a short-term solution to a long-term situation.
Man, he missed his wife.
Scraping his hand over his face, he caught sight of his bare ring finger, which still bore a fading tan line. Removing his wedding ring a few months ago had resulted in nothing more than leaving his hand naked and exposed, even nearly three years after Rayne’s unexpected death.
He missed being married, but truth was, he’d had his happily-ever-after already.
Sure, some people like his dad and Claudia found love again.
But Tucker was a package deal. Not many women wanted a ready-made family.
Besides, how could another woman compare to what he’d had with Rayne?
With the anniversary of his late wife’s death approaching, Tucker wanted more. Problem was, he wasn’t quite sure what that looked like, but he was definitely ready for a bit of sunshine to brighten his days.
However, striving for a better future was taking its toll, mentally and physically. He longed for a helpmate, a life partner who would support him and not give up on him.
Someday.
Maybe.
When he was ready to risk his heart again.
He knew how messy life could be. Sure, they’d all have days of spilled cereal and cheese balls for breakfast. But after hiring Mandy to nanny his children, Tucker had had a glimpse of hope for some sort of new normal, and he didn’t want to lose that.
But now he was back to square one and needed to find someone else he could trust with his children.
And that was a very short list.
Otherwise, his boss’s veiled warning would result into a termination, and his family couldn’t afford that. He needed his job until he finished his degree in grief counseling.
In the meantime, though, he needed to keep trusting God because something would work out.
It had to.
Chapter Two
Somehow Isabella had to get her father to listen to reason.
She laced her fingers around the coffee cup, hopefully hiding the trembling, and looked at Dad, who seemed to have aged overnight. “You’re doing too much. You just got home and should be resting, especially since your doctor wanted you to stay another day.”
“Why? So they can bleed more money from me? No, thanks. I feel fine. Besides, I don’t have time to be lying around. I have a business to run.”
Home from the hospital less than an hour, and he already had a stained apron stretched over his protruding belly while he washed vegetables at the prep sink.
His dark hair, cut to military precision, contained even more silver than when she’d been home a few months ago. His brown eyes had lost their sparkle. Laugh lines deepened into crevices of worry as he worked.
His favorite country station played softly from the black AM/FM radio sitting on a corner shelf, filling the frustrating silence.
Dad dried his hands on a paper towel, then balled it up and pitched it in the oversize black trash can. He looked at her with vacant eyes that cut through her. “I’m sorry, Bells. The last thing I wanted was for you to see your old man as a failure.”
Isabella set her cup down, moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his back. “You have never been nor will you ever be a failure in my eyes. You should have told me the diner was struggling. I would’ve helped in any way I could.”
“You have your own life to lead. Besides, Tuck had no business saying anything. This is my mess. I’ll handle it.” He turned and patted her cheek with a wet, beefy hand.
“What happened to you and me being in this together?” Isabella crossed her arms over her chest. “This place has been paid off for years. Not to mention it’s packed every day, so why are you in danger of losing everything you’ve built up for the last twenty-five years?”
Dad scrubbed a hand over his tired face, then shielded his eyes, but not before she caught the sheen of wetness. He cleared his throat. “I told you already—this isn’t your problem.”
“I’m your daughter. We’ve been through everything together since Mom left—”
“Keep her out of this.” His jaw tightened as he gripped the curved edge of the sink.
She smoothed the frustration out of her voice and lowered her tone. “I’m only saying I’m here for you.”
He sighed, then cracked a smile, looking more like the jovial Joe Bradley his customers saw on a regular basis. “Great, then grab a knife and give me a hand breaking down these vegetables. I need to make coleslaw for the Dinner with a Hero fund-raiser.”
“What’s that?” After washing and drying her hands, she pulled on a pair of disposable gloves, then snatched a sharpened chef’s knife from the metal strip above the prep area, grabbed a few fat heads of cabbage out of the prep sink and lined them on the large cutting board at the prep station. After removing the outer leaves, she cut each of the heads in half and removed the cores, then shredded the cabbage quickly. She grabbed a bench scraper and scooped the large pile of cabbage into a stainless prep pan.
Dad scrubbed the carrots then julienned them with the skill and dexterity of a man who knew his way around a knife. “Tucker’s late wife started it several years ago—community service men and women like police officers, firefighters, EMTs, etc., put together dinner baskets, then people bid on their baskets to eat dinner with a hero. The proceeds from the fund-raiser go toward helping families in need in the community.”
“Sounds like a worthy cause. And people hire you
to create their baskets?”
He chuckled. “Nah, they have to create their own baskets. I’ve been catering the event for the past couple of years—making food to serve for those who don’t bid or lost their bids. Takes place on the Holland Farm. Besides the auction, there are information booths, vendors, games for kids, the works. It’s become a community affair. You should go. Bid on a basket. Maybe you’ll find your own hero.”
“You’re the only hero I need. Falling in love just leads to heartbreak. So, what are you making?”
“Keeping it simple this year with pulled pork, roasted chicken, potato salad, baked beans, coleslaw and chocolate chip cookies.”
“Who’s helping you?”
He shot her another grin. “Apparently you are now.”
Isabella tightened her grip on the knife. “Dad, you’re doing too much. No wonder you passed out yesterday. You can’t keep shouldering these burdens by yourself.”
Dad waved his hands. “Look around, Bells. There’s no one else. It’s all on me.”
“What happened to Sebastian? Or George? Or Larry?”
“Larry’s in rehab after getting arrested for his second DUI. Sebastian has a family to support and couldn’t afford to stick around a sinking ship after I had to cut his hours, so he bailed and found something more stable. George...well, he and I don’t always see eye to eye, so no. I’d rather do it myself.”
“You’re his boss. If you’re not happy with his performance, you need to let him go and hire someone else. But like I said—you’re not doing things by yourself anymore. I’m here now and can help interview more responsible workers.”
“Baby girl, you have a good heart, and I appreciate it, but like I’ve said—this is my problem. You focus on that fancy-pants restaurant of yours and I’ll tend to this greasy spoon.” He folded his arms over his chest and looked at her over the rims of his glasses. “Hey, by the way—what are you doing home midweek, anyway?”
Heat clawed at Isabella’s neck and cheeks. She reached for another washed head of cabbage and broke it down quickly, scraping the chopped vegetables into another pan.