“Ah, Mommy, I won’t get dirty,” the five-year-old said as she picked up a piece of wood too big for her and had to settle it against her dress to help her hold it.
Zoey cringed at the streak of dirt she saw on the yellow fabric. “Now, Mandy.”
Her daughter dropped the board and slumped toward the steps. “I’ll be back.”
Dane tossed down the hammer and sauntered toward Zoey. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s okay. It’ll wash clean. Mandy’s clothes have to or I’d be in debt buying her new ones all the time.”
“Do you need any help making the sandwiches?”
Surprised by the offer, she shook her head. “Nah, I can handle it.” Her gaze fell on the lumber stacked behind Dane. “I didn’t realize you were gonna start today building the playhouse.”
“After you left for church, I stared at the four walls for half an hour, then decided to do something. So I walked to the super center. I saw Alex Stone there with his pickup and he offered to transport what I needed back here.”
“I wondered why Alex was late for church.”
“So he goes to the same church as you do?”
“Yeah, I see quite a bit of him since he’s also the principal at the high school.”
“He told me. The whole way back here he spoke your praises. You’ve obviously single-handedly reorganized the counseling office.”
The heat of a blush scored her cheeks. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, Alex Stone did.”
For a moment Zoey studied the closed expression on Dane’s face and wondered about the slight edge to his voice. Was he jealous? That, too, surprised her. “You know my knack for organization. I don’t like clutter.”
He chuckled, any tension gone between them. “Yes, I know. I still remember that time you cleaned out my closet and threw away my favorite ball cap.”
“Oh, please. That old thing was threadbare,” she said, her own laughter bubbling up within her as she recalled his shocked expression when he had discovered the neat closet minus his ball cap, which he never wore but had declared was his lucky one. “I’d better go fix lunch before you drudge up some other faulty memory.”
“Faulty!” he declared as she quickly escaped into the house.
Mandy raced through the kitchen not five minutes later, banging the door behind her as she went outside. Zoey jumped, splaying her hand over her heart and inhaling deeply. With a glance she spied Mandy helping Dane hammer a board to another one. Satisfied that her daughter was dressed in old jeans and a T-shirt, she finished preparing the sandwiches then went in search of her son.
The door to his bedroom was closed. She rapped on it and waited for him to tell her to come in. No sense provoking him more than he already had been.
“Lunch is ready downstairs.”
“Can I eat up here?”
“No, you know you can’t eat in your room.” She turned to leave, paused and added, “We’ll be outside having lunch.” She quietly shut his door, her hand lingering on the knob.
Oh, baby, I wish I could ease your pain, she thought, heading toward the kitchen after making a brief stop at the linen closet for a blanket.
With a blanket over her arm, Zoey carried a tray laden with their sandwiches and lemonades outside and down the steps to the area where Dane and Mandy were working on the playhouse, at the back of the yard along the fence. “Ready to eat?”
With her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth and total concentration lining her face, Mandy pounded the hammer into the nail one final time. Leaping to her feet, she pointed to the beginning of a playhouse frame. “Look what I did, Mommy.”
“You did good, honey. Let’s break for lunch.” Zoey gave Dane the blanket to spread over the grass while she held the tray.
Mandy sat cross-legged. “Mrs. Giggles is gonna have a home in no time.”
Dane sank down next to his daughter and reached for his peanut butter sandwich. “It may take a few weeks. I haven’t built anything in ages. And I want to make sure it’ll withstand a windstorm.”
“Daddy, ya can do it.”
Dane beamed as he took a bite of his food, then washed it down with a swig of lemonade. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Con—vi—dense?” Mandy, with peanut butter smeared on her cheek, looked up at her father.
“Confidence means you’re sure I can do it.”
“You’re my daddy. Ya can.” Mandy stuffed a third of the sandwich into her mouth.
Zoey handed her a napkin, indicating she wipe her face. The exchange between father and daughter made her chest expand with conflicting emotions—regret that Dane missed so much time with Mandy and happiness that her daughter had a father again.
“Where’s Blake?” Mandy asked after cleaning the red smear off her face.
“He’s in his room.” Zoey’s gaze sought Dane’s.
“Why’s he spendin’ so much time there?”
Mandy’s question erased the smile in Dane’s eyes. Regret darkened his expression and ripped through Zoey’s defenses. None of this was easy, but especially for Dane, she realized, wanting to smooth his concern and pain away.
“Sometimes people like to spend time by themselves,” she finally answered her daughter as Dane’s impregnable mask fell into place.
“We’ll get this done faster with his help.” Mandy downed the last of her lemonade, jumped to her feet and hurried back to the stack of boards.
“Mandy, wait for me,” Dane called out.
The five-year-old whirled around, trying to snap her fingers and not quite succeeding. “I know. I’ll get Mrs. Giggles to help.” She ran toward the back door.
“You probably have about three minutes to finish your lunch before she’s back.”
“Does she ever slow down?”
“When she’s asleep.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Dane put half of his sandwich back on the tray.
“If you don’t want peanut butter, I can fix you something else.”
“No—” he shook his head “—no, I’m still not used to eating a lot at one time.” One corner of his mouth curved upward. “I’m sure that will change in time, especially with your home cooking.”
His compliment, one he had given her many times in the past, brought forth memories of meals spent with the whole family at the table. They had been rare and cherished when they had occurred. So often Dane had been gone or had come home too late to eat with the children. Tears misted her eyes as they took him in.
The back door slammed closed, startling Zoey even though she’d known her daughter was coming back. But she had been so focused on Dane the rest of the world had faded. She averted her gaze and busied herself cleaning up.
Mandy raced to them and settled Mrs. Giggles on the ground under the big oak tree, facing the area where the playhouse was. “I told her we’re doin’ this for her. Ready, Daddy?”
Dane drank the last of his lemonade then pushed to his feet. “You’re a slave driver, but I’m ready to go back to work.”
Mandy giggled as she picked up the hammer. Zoey watched the pair for a few minutes, noting Dane’s patience with his daughter. It caused the tears to return. So much time lost for both of them.
The hairs on her neck prickled. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Blake standing at the back door watching them through the glass. He turned away when she looked, but she’d seen the longing in her son’s expression. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she swiped it away before Mandy glimpsed it and asked a thousand questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.
After gathering up the lunch items and stacking them on the tray, Zoey made her way inside, hoping that Blake was still in the kitchen. Her son sat at the table, eating his sandwich, his head bowed. She busied herself rinsing off the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.
When Blake brought her his plate and glass, she said, “They could sure use your help out there.”
“I’ve got homework.”
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“Homework! This is a first. You never volunteer to do it.” She forced a lightness into her voice, wanting to tease her son into a good mood.
“Well, things change.”
He hurried from the kitchen before she could say anything else. Her son had summed up what was happening in the Witherspoon household very well. Right now she would have to settle for her daughters getting to know their father. Hopefully in time, Blake would follow suit. If not—she refused to think about what would happen to the family if her son didn’t.
After cleaning up the lunch dishes, Zoey retraced her steps back outside to see what she could do to help. Her daughter’s laughter lightened her heart after her encounter with her son.
Mandy saw her and ran up to her. “I’m gonna have a kitchen like ya!”
“Just how big is this gonna be?”
Her daughter drew herself up tall, her shoulders thrust back. “Big enough for me and Mrs. Giggles.” She threw her arms around Zoey. “I’m the most luckiest girl there is.”
Dane’s gaze connected with Zoey’s. With Mandy pressed against her, she stared at him, a slow smile entering her eyes and spreading to encompass her whole face. Good. When she’d first come out here a minute ago, she’d worn a worried expression. He was pretty sure why. Blake wouldn’t join them. He’d observed him standing at the back door earlier and had hoped he would. But his son had seen him looking and had turned away.
Dane picked up another long board from the stack and laid it on the ground to be nailed. Somehow he had to reach his son. Blake was hurting and he was the reason for it. He couldn’t lose his son as he had his younger brother.
“Where’s my helper?” he asked, determined not to journey into the past, a past he couldn’t change but was resolved not to repeat.
“Here!” Mandy rushed toward him, hopping the last few steps.
“We have a couple of more nails to hammer then we’ll be through with this part of the frame. Ready?”
“Yes!” Mandy knelt on the grass.
Dane passed the hammer to her, then held the nail to get her started.
“You’re mighty brave,” Zoey said behind him.
“No, Mandy’s very good. She’s got this hammering down.”
“Yeah, Mommy. I only hit Daddy’s thumb once.”
“Ouch!” Zoey’s laughter floated to him.
“Not too hard. It has only swollen up twice as big.”
“Oh, Daddy, you’re too funny.”
“Tell me, princess. I’ve been wondering why you call your doll Mrs. Giggles.”
Mandy finished with the first nail. “When I tickle her, she giggles.”
“Oh, like this.” Dane reached over and tickled Mandy in the side.
His daughter laughed, then launched herself at him, doing the same to him. As they wrestled on the ground, he let her get the best of him. She ended up sitting on his chest until he called out, “Uncle.”
Mandy jumped up, brushing her hands together. “I won.”
From his prone position on the ground he saw Blake in his bedroom window watching them. The second Dane’s gaze touched him, his son darted back behind the curtain. Dane sat up. Blake’s continual interest in what they were doing gave him hope. So much of his life was in limbo. He didn’t want his family to be. Somehow he had to reconnect with Blake—and with Zoey.
* * *
“What are you doing here so late?” Beth Morgan asked from the doorway of Zoey’s office at school Wednesday afternoon.
She glanced up from the file she was reading and smiled. “The same thing you are, working. With Dane at the house I’ve had a chance to catch up on some paperwork.”
“Mmm.” Her good friend lounged against the jamb, studying her. “Are you sure you aren’t just avoiding going home?”
Zoey straightened, restacking the files in front of her. “No. I really have work to do.”
Beth came into the office and settled in the chair in front of her desk. “We always have work to do.”
Putting her elbow on a pile of papers, Zoey cupped her chin in her hand. “Do you want me to admit I don’t want to go home and deal—” She couldn’t voice all the seesawing emotions she was experiencing with Dane in the house. One minute she would be happy, the next sad. Then she would become worried, which would evolve into anger.
“And deal with your husband returning from the dead?”
“Exactly.” Zoey sighed. “I’m happy he’s alive. I’m glad the children are getting to know him all over again.”
“But?”
“But I don’t know what to feel about him. And Blake is so openly angry at his father. I’ve tried to get my son to talk to me about it, but he won’t say anything. Do you know the past few nights he has gone directly to his room after dinner and done his homework? My son, who never does any unless I threaten him with grounding. I even caught him in bed studying for a test.”
Beth leaned forward clasping her hands together. “That’s a good thing, Zoey. We want our children to do their homework and study for their tests.”
“Yes, but not hide out in their bedrooms.”
“Do you want Samuel to try talking to Blake?”
“Yes, please. Samuel has such a way with children. He might be able to find out what’s going on in my son’s head.”
Beth rose. “Sure, I’ll say something to my husband tonight. I know some of the kids are going to be working at the church this weekend, cleaning up the flower beds now that spring has sprung.”
Zoey put the files away. “I’ll walk out with you. You’re right. I need to get home.”
“It looks like Blake isn’t the only one hiding out. You know that won’t solve your problems.”
While retrieving her purse from the bottom drawer, Zoey slanted a look toward her friend at the door. “Samuel’s wisdom is rubbing off on you.”
“I think I’ve been insulted.”
Zoey laughed as she switched off the overhead light and locked her office door. “No, I’m complimenting your husband.”
The sound of their heels on the tile floor echoed through the hallway as they walked toward the front door. The warm air caressed Zoey when she stepped outside, the light breeze playing with strands of her hair. She brushed some behind her ear.
“This weekend is going be a busy one. Blake has a soccer game before he helps at the church, cleaning up the ground, then he’s going to a sleepover at Nate’s. I promised Mandy I would take her to the story hour at the library, then she needs some new clothes. She’s growing up so fast.”
“You don’t have to do it all alone anymore. Have Dane help you.”
Beth’s suggestion caused Zoey to stop in the middle of the parking lot. “You’re right. I’d forgotten he could do some of the running around.” At least until he starts working again and is gone all the time, she added silently.
“See, problem solved just like that.” Beth snapped her fingers.
“I wish they all were that easy.”
“Have faith, Zoey. Things will work out in time. Look at Samuel and me. Never thought I wanted a second family and I wouldn’t change places with anyone in this world. How did I think traveling would ever take the place of family?”
“Tell that to my husband. But in his case it’s his job.” Zoey began walking toward her minivan.
“Maybe he’s changed since being away.”
Changed? Zoey didn’t think so. She pictured his closed expression and the strained periods of silence when he wouldn’t let her in. That was the Dane who had disappeared on a mission in South America. “See you tomorrow.”
On the short drive to her house Zoey thought of Beth and her circle of friends. They had helped eased the pain of mourning Dane’s death when she had first arrived in Sweetwater two years ago, with a brand-new baby and barely holding her life together. She still depended on them for advice and guidance.
The gray dimness of dusk invaded the landscape as she pulled up into her driveway and parked. One day she needed to clean
out the garage enough to get her van into it, she mused while heading for the front porch of the home she’d lived in when she was a child. Her mother had insisted on getting a small house for herself while she and the children lived here. Zoey was comforted by familiar surroundings, but the house was old and needed some work on it.
When am I gonna have the time? she asked herself, inserting the key into the lock.
Dane is here now. He can help. Again she was reminded she wasn’t alone any longer. But she couldn’t shake the feeling it felt as if she were alone.
When she opened the front door, the quiet of house greeted her. Where was everyone? “Hello!”
Silence.
Then she heard the laughter coming from the backyard. She walked through the empty kitchen and out onto the deck, finding Mandy, Tara and Dane near the partially built playhouse. Her youngest daughter sat on the grass, rubbing her eyes while Mandy put some of the tools away.
Her oldest daughter saw her. “Mommy, you’re home!”
Dane glanced up from stacking some wood to the side of the framed structure. “We lost track of time. Didn’t realize it was getting so late.”
Zoey made a beeline for Tara, seeing her crunching up her face into a frown that was a prelude to her cry. She snatched up the toddler into her arms. “It’s okay, baby.” As Tara’s cry erupted, Zoey felt her daughter’s forehead. Heat grazed her fingertips. “She’s hot.”
Dane dropped the last piece of scrap wood. “What?”
“She’s got a fever.”
Hurrying to her, he laid his hand over Tara’s brow. “When she got up from her nap a few hours ago, she was fussy, didn’t want me to hold her. But when I brought her out here, so Mandy and I could work on the playhouse, she calmed down.”
Zoey walked toward the back door. “She’s never fussy after her nap unless something’s wrong.”
The tight edge to his wife’s voice conveyed her anger, as did the firm set to her mouth. Dane watched her disappear inside, feeling her censure as if she had spoken it out loud. She’d made it plain he should have known that Tara was coming down with a fever.
Mandy tugged on his shirt. “Is Tara okay?”
“Yeah, princess. I’m sure she is. She’s just not feeling well.” He hoped he was right. This incident underscored how little he knew about his own children—even Blake, whom he would have said he knew very well at one time. But not anymore. His son was a stranger to him and he was at a loss how to get through to him. “We’d better go inside. It’s getting dark.”
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