by Lois Richer
“You tell me the minute you feel tired, Misty,” Gracie ordered. “And when we get to the other side, that’s it. Time for bed. No arguing. Agreed?”
“Oh, Mommy.”
When no help came from Dallas, their daughter finally agreed to her terms. Once Gracie had removed the barricade that kept Misty in one corner of the pool, the little girl pushed off with a hearty splash that spattered both adults.
Misty did well until the halfway point, when she grew tired.
“You can’t flop around like a walrus, kiddo. You’re not wearing tusks,” Dallas teased. He let her cling to his arm for a minute’s rest, then encouraged her to set off again, resuming the swimming stroke she’d been taught.
He was a natural at fatherhood, Gracie decided as she paddled alongside, watching for signs of fatigue in the tiny body. No matter how many questions Misty asked him, he never seemed to run out of patience or encouragement.
“Way to go, Misty.” Dallas hugged her close, then kicked back toward the steps, where he sat and let her rest on his knee. “You did it!”
“It was hard.” She gasped for breath, her little chest rising and falling.
“Lots of things are hard. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to do them.”
“Why?”
Gracie’s heart ached. Misty had overcome so many hard things already.
“If we don’t try hard, we’ll never know if we can or not. And then we’ll be afraid.”
“You are not to swim across the pool again unless I’m here and I say so, Misty. Understand?” Gracie caught the look Dallas shot her way, and floated toward the steps.
“Yes, Mommy,” Misty said meekly. She clung to Dallas’s neck, yawned. “Rory isn’t going to believe I did it.”
“Does that matter?” Dallas carried her out of the water, then held out a helping hand toward Gracie.
She accepted it, let him draw her up and out, ignoring her heart’s little flutter.
“It matters.” Misty was firm on that.
“Why?” Once Dallas had removed her personal flotation device and wrapped Misty in one of the big bath towels Gracie had supplied, he set her on a chair and toweled himself dry.
“Because Rory beats me at everything. Just once I want to beat him.” Misty’s voice grew softer. “I’m tired, Mommy.”
“I know.” Gracie pulled on her cover-up, slid her feet into her sandals. “Time for bed.”
“Can Dallas carry me?”
“I—”
“Please? I don’t want to walk.”
“First we have to put your toys away,” Dallas murmured.
“Mommy can do it,” Misty said carelessly.
“No. Mommy’s tired, too. She was working all day.”
Gracie began unbuttoning her cover-up, to go back in the water to collect the toys, but Dallas rested a hand on her arm. “She has to learn to consider others, Gracie.”
“She’s tired. Besides, the deck is wet and slippery.”
“She can walk on the grass.” He turned to Misty, grasped her hand. “Come on, Miss Misty, we’ll make a chain gang. I’ll send the toys to you and you carry them to Mommy. She’ll be over by the fence. Do you know how many steps it is from the grass?”
“Fifteen.” Misty rose from the chair, her curiosity roused. “But how are you going to send the toys to me?”
“Airmail. Hang on. I have to dive in to get that duck.” Dallas did a mock cannonball that sent a wave of water splashing over both Misty and Gracie.
Face dripping, Misty doubled over in laughter. “Did you get it?”
“Go on the grass. Ready? Here’s one duck flying to you, Misty.” He tossed it through the air. It landed right at her feet. “Okay, pass it on.”
Her fingers closed over the rubber. She walked across the grass, held out the duck. “Here, Mommy.”
“Thank you, honey.”
But Misty was already back in place, waiting for the next item.
Gracie held her breath as Dallas tossed each of the toys, but his aim was perfect. Not that the inflated things would have hurt Misty, it was just that Gracie was so used to making sure—
“Why don’t you send more? I haven’t had the beach ball yet.”
Gracie met Dallas’s stare, knew he’d seen her worry.
“Your mommy isn’t ready. We have to wait for her to catch up.”
“I’ll help her.” Misty moved across the grass easily, sidestepping Gracie. She felt for the toys and one by one dumped them into the bin. “I don’t think you can make the ball fly over here, Dallas. It’s too far.”
She wore a teasing little grin that matched her father’s so closely, Gracie got a pain in her heart.
“Is that a dare?” Dallas called.
“Yes.”
“Okay, kid. You asked for it. Hold out your arms and stay still.”
Misty obeyed, waiting expectantly for him to throw the ball. When it landed with a plop in her arms, water droplets splashed her face. She giggled as she tossed the ball in with the rest of the water toys. “You did it!”
“Of course I did.” He scrambled out of the water, wrapped his damp towel around himself. “I’m very good at airmailing toys.”
Gracie shivered at the memory of evenings they’d spent by the creek behind her father’s house. Sweet lovely nights. Dallas mistook her shiver for cold and grabbed her towel, wrapped it around her shoulders.
“You’d better get changed. I’ll look after Misty until you’re ready.” He snapped the pool gate shut behind him, then moved closer to Misty. “Let’s get inside, kiddo. Soon as your mom’s ready you can have a wash.”
“But I’m not dirty.”
Gracie hurried into the house, showered quickly and pulled on her jeans and a warm sweater. It had been hot today, but suddenly the air felt cooler.
She found father and daughter in the kitchen, still arguing about degrees of dirtiness.
“Come on, honey. Bath time.” She allowed herself the merest glance at Dallas. “Misty will use my shower. You can have the other bathroom to change.”
“But I want a bath, Mommy. I’m cold. Your bathroom doesn’t have a tub.”
Gracie squeezed her eyes closed. How to get out of this one? If Dallas went in her room he’d see the photographs she’d placed on the walls, photographs of him. He’d see the box he’d given her, and he was bound to notice all the mementos she’d stuffed inside. A dozen dried roses, a silver necklace, the only wedding picture she had.
Seeing her hesitation, Dallas shook his head. “It’s fine, Gracie. I’ll pull my jeans on and go back to the bunkhouse to change. But I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to kiss you good-night, Misty. And you’d better be in bed.”
Gracie hid her smile at her daughter’s grimace.
“I’m leaving now, Misty,” he added. “I bet I’m back before you’re in bed.”
“Come on, Mommy. I want to beat him.” Misty tugged at Gracie’s hand.
Dallas grinned at them, then hurried out the door. Suddenly the house felt empty, drained of the vitality Dallas always carried into a room.
“I will always love you, Gracie. No matter what happens.”
If only love was enough.
Chapter Five
Dallas walked back to the house with more speed than was necessary.
But he couldn’t seem to keep himself from hurrying, and it wasn’t only because he wanted to kiss his daughter good-night.
Though Gracie was tired, he knew she would offer him something to drink. He intended to accept. And while he drank they could talk. Maybe he’d finally get some answers to the questions tormenting him.
He tapped on the door lightly. “It’s me.”
“I win!” Misty called from her room.
Gracie sent him a droll look from the kitchen, where she was pouring boiling water into a teapot. “Maybe you can get her to lie down, now that you’re back,” she said. “I doubt she’ll go to sleep easily. She’s overtired.”
His fault.
&n
bsp; “I’ll get her to sleep.” Dallas walked down the hall. “You relax. Read a book. We’ll be fine.”
Misty lay propped up in bed, waiting, her shining face uplifted. She giggled when he sat down beside her. “What does the winner get?”
“A good-night kiss?” He leaned over, placed a loud smack against her cheek. “How’s that?”
“Mommy always reads a story to me.” She pulled a dog-eared volume from the bookcase of braille books. “I like this one.”
Misty couldn’t know he’d been studying braille, though he wasn’t proficient enough to read this yet. He heard a noise, saw Gracie standing in the doorway.
“I’ll read it,” she murmured.
“No, I want Dallas.”
A flash of hurt lit Gracie’s eyes before she shrugged. She opened her mouth to explain to Misty, but Dallas cut her off. “Actually, I thought I’d tell you a story. Is that okay?”
“I guess.” Misty snuggled down in her bed to listen, the book still clutched in her fingers.
Dallas told the story of Daniel in the lion’s den. It was the only one he could remember. By the time he’d finished, Misty was fast asleep. He studied her, his heart brimming with love, then bent and brushed a kiss to her cheek. As he rose the book tumbled onto the floor.
“Put it back,” Gracie murmured. “So she won’t trip on it in case she gets up in the night.”
He did as she asked, then followed her from the room.
“Sorry, I forgot,” Gracie said, pausing in the archway to the kitchen.
“Forgot what?”
“That you don’t like mint tea.”
“I think mint tea would be very nice right about now.”
“Oh.” She frowned, motioned for him to sit on the love seat.
Dallas settled there, reaching for the cup she handed him.
“How can you swim at night when she’s sleeping? Aren’t you afraid—”
Gracie held up what looked like a baby monitor.
“Oh.” Here he was, sitting in her living room, and he couldn’t think of anything to say. “Our daughter is an imp,” he said, watching Gracie’s face. Was it unfair to use Misty to get to his wife’s heart?
“You hardly know she’s blind sometimes. At her last assessment they said she was well ahead of her age group,” Gracie told him.
“What I can’t understand is why you’re so afraid. Talk to me, Gracie.”
She was silent so long he almost decided to leave. Then she rose and picked up the monitor, motioned to the patio doors.
“Little pitchers,” she murmured.
Dallas followed her outside, sensing that it wasn’t only Misty she was worried about. Gracie needed the cover of the night. He waited until she was seated on one of the lounges before pulling a second right next to it.
“What do you want to know, Dallas?”
Everything. Anything.
“When we were married, why did we go back to live with your father?”
“Because you said that would be best. The company gave you a place in Houston, but your work took you all across the country. You said I’d be alone too much, that it was better if I finished the spring and summer helping out my dad, that I’d have family nearby.”
A shaky thread in her voice told him that hadn’t been a good idea.
“Was your father happy about us?”
She looked at him, her eyes cold. “No.”
“He didn’t like me?”
“I suppose he might have liked you well enough, but he didn’t like me getting married. I was supposed to finish my schooling. And when I found out I was pregnant…” She bit her lip.
Dallas sucked in a lungful of air. “Gracie, did he hurt you?” He gripped the side of his chair as he forced out the ugly words, anger spurting through him. “Were you abused?”
“Physically, no.” She managed a quirky smile. “He wasn’t like that. He would never have beaten me.” She fiddled with the fabric of her top. “But he was very angry that we’d eloped, that I hadn’t told him, and he made sure I knew it. Then when you didn’t come back…” She stared at him, shrugged.
“Didn’t I phone, e-mail?”
She nodded. “You called twice. Then I never heard from you again.”
Dallas scowled at his stupidity. What man in his right mind would leave his bride and take off a few days after they’d been married? Especially a bride like Gracie. What was wrong with him?
“It’s okay, Dallas,” she murmured, her voice shaky. “I understood.”
“Well, I don’t. I think I was nuts.” He had to relax, let her tell her story her own way. “Go on. You found out you were going to have Misty.”
“Yes. I could hardly wait to tell you. When you didn’t come back, didn’t call, I didn’t know what to do. I phoned your boss, found out they’d been trying to locate you also. As far as anyone knew, the last place you’d been was Vancouver. You sent me a letter from there.”
Vancouver? He couldn’t visualize anything about the city.
“I was so scared something bad had happened. I didn’t have any money to hire an investigator, and as the weeks went by with no news, it got harder to believe you were coming back. I started to believe what Dad said.”
“Which was?”
“That I was too young to be a mother.”
“We both know he was wrong about that.” Dallas had to touch her, to make the contact that his body recalled even if his brain didn’t. He brushed his hand over hers, entwined their fingers. “I think you’re the best mother I’ve ever seen. Misty’s a tribute to your work and determination.”
“Thank you.” She bowed her head. “I thought for sure you’d call at Christmas.”
“Why Christmas?” He brushed his thumb over her silky skin.
“You told me it was your favorite time of the year, that you’d take me to Dallas and show me how Christmas should be celebrated. You had lots of plans. But you never came, and Dad and I spent Christmas as usual.”
She sounded so sad. Another question popped up.
“What about my parents? Didn’t I take you to meet them? We were married in Dallas, weren’t we?”
Gracie nodded, but withdrew her hand and kept her eyes averted. “Yes, but they were away the day we got married. I had to get back home and you said we’d meet them another time.” She paused, and when she spoke again there was an edge to her voice that Dallas didn’t understand. “I contacted them before Misty was born, but they didn’t know where you were, either, though they ran a big ad offering a reward for information.”
There were pieces missing, things she wasn’t saying, but Dallas let them go, anxious to get the broader picture settled in his mind.
“So you had Misty.”
“After my father died. He had a heart attack.” She bit her lip. “We’d been arguing. He always thought I’d take over his practice, and to do that I would have had to leave my baby with someone, go back to school and finish my training. I was scared and miserable and alone, and worried about raising a child without help. I couldn’t promise him I’d do it, and he was furious.”
Again the anger bubbled inside. What kind of a man put his pregnant daughter in such a position?
“You didn’t cause his death, Gracie.”
“It sure felt like it.” She sniffed, rubbed her eyes and pretended to smile. “Anyway, he had a heart attack and died that night in the hospital. His funeral was held two days later. Two weeks later I went into labor, but it didn’t progress so I had a C-section.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help, Gracie.” Dallas squeezed her hand, trying to express his feelings. “I’m sorry I went away without you, but I’m not sorry you had Misty or that you kept her. She’s a wonderful little girl.”
After several tense moments, Gracie tugged her hand free, stood up and wandered over to the rosebushes. “I thought maybe you were sorry we got married, that you’d come back to say you’d found someone else, and to ask me for a divorce. Then I thought if you knew a
bout Misty you’d try to take her away.” She gulped back a sob. “When I saw you in the park, all I could think of was that nothing would ever be the same for Misty and me.”
Dallas walked over behind her and slid his arms around her waist, turning her so she faced him.
“Things won’t ever be the same, Gracie. But I hope, I pray they’ll be better.” He bent his head, brushed his lips against hers, and when she kissed him back he deepened it, hoping, praying that her response was meant for him, not the man she’d lost six years ago.
He tilted his head back to study her beautiful face, but she quickly buried it against his chest. So he rested his chin on her silken head, relishing their contact.
“That should tell you that I don’t want a divorce, Gracie. We are married, and in my book that means forever. What we have to do now is figure out a way to make our marriage work.”
“But Misty…I have to put her first, Dallas. I can’t put her world on hold to help you get back yours. Don’t you see? It isn’t about us.” Gracie eased out of his embrace. “We’re adults. We can adjust, adapt. But Misty is a little girl who needs security.”
“I’m not asking you to abandon Misty!” Her comments puzzled him. “Misty doesn’t strike me as insecure, Gracie. She knows you’ll be there. But she’s not going to be content to stay locked up in the world you’ve created for her. Already she’s made new friends, found new confidence. Isn’t that what you want for her?”
“My mother died when I was four. I thought she’d gone away, left me because she didn’t like me. I cried for three days before someone told me she still loved me, even though she was in Heaven.”
Pain, poker hot and just as sharp, pierced his skull. Dallas gasped, grabbed his head between his hands, groaning as white-hot flashes of light flared before him.
“Dallas? What’s wrong?”
He couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but try to outlast it. When the agony finally ebbed, he was too drained to stand, so he flopped down on the nearest chair.
“What happened?” Gracie asked, pushing back his hair so she could study his face.