Reuniting His Family

by Jean C. Gordon

  “Hey, Dad, can I go with my friends and our teacher?” Owen asked.

  Rhys bit back the no that sprang to his lips and stifled his disappointment. Owen was older and bigger enough that he’d want to go on rides Dylan couldn’t go on. He’d have more fun with his friends, and that’s what the trip was about—Owen and Dylan having fun, not him reliving one of the few good memories he had of his childhood and sharing them with his sons. “Sure. Mind your group leader and find us for lunch.” He patted the cooler. “I have the food. Your leader can text me when you’re ready to eat.”

  “Okay,” Owen called over his shoulder.

  “How about you, Dylan?” Rhys asked. “Do you have a friend you want to hang out with? We can hang out with him and his parent.”

  “No. I like being with Miss Renee and you. It’s kind of like being with Mommy.”

  Rhys swallowed and stared at his athletic shoes. In some ways, it was how things might have been for him and Dylan as a family if he hadn’t messed up. In other ways, it wasn’t at all the same.

  He’d loved Gwen. She’d been his wife. He and Renee...he didn’t know what their relationship was beyond her being one of his “resources.” But at least for him, he begrudgingly admitted, it was becoming something more. Who knew about how Renee felt? One thing he was sure of was that Renee would agree that they shouldn’t let Dylan build up expectations about something that could wind up hurting him.

  “Okay, buddy, then what do you and Melody want to do first?”

  “Krazy Kups!” they both shouted.

  “I’ve got it on the map,” Renee said. “Let’s go.”

  Five hours later, Rhys and Renee walked toward their vehicles in the parking lot with a wound-up Owen, a tired Dylan holding Renee’s hand and an even more tired Melody drifting off in Rhys’s arms. Renee opened the passenger-side door to her car and Rhys bent to fasten the now-asleep little girl into her seat.

  He straightened to find himself gazing down at Renee, who was still holding the door handle, her upturned face taking him back to last Saturday afternoon in the kitchen of her apartment. Rhys quickly straightened to his full height. “See you at church tomorrow.”

  She cleared her throat. “Right, church.”

  “’Bye, Miss Renee,” Owen and Dylan said, breaking the invisible tether between Rhys and Renee.

  He and the boys approached his old beat-up pickup. Maybe it was time to look at a bigger vehicle. For Owen and Dylan’s safety, of course.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Miss Renee, can I ask you a question?” Melody looked up at Renee as she opened the door of the post office, her last Saturday-morning errand done.

  “Sure, sweetie.”

  “Is Mr. Rhys your boyfriend now?”

  Renee choked down the water she’d sipped from her sports bottle. “Why do you ask?” She had no idea where Melody was going, but knew she should hear her out. This was the first time the little girl had started a conversation with her, rather than simply answering Renee’s questions.

  Melody pursed her lips, looking very serious. “Mr. Rhys built you a doghouse. And you went to the Great Escape with him.”

  “Mr. Rhys and I are friends, but not girlfriend and boyfriend.”

  Melody eyed her with skepticism. “Will, who lived next to me and Mommy, was her friend and then her boyfriend. They went on dates. Do you and Mr. Rhys go on dates?”

  Renee smiled at Melody’s veiled way of asking whether she knew what a boyfriend was. Renee definitely did, and Rhys was definitely not.

  “Then Will moved away and Mommy was sad like she was when Daddy went away. Would you be sad if Mr. Rhys went away?”

  Renee’s breath hitched. She sensed something more beneath the little girl’s question, a sense that she couldn’t trust in happy endings. “I’d be very sad if Mr. Rhys went away. But don’t worry, as far as I know, the only place Mr. Rhys is going is to my house to paint the doghouse. And we’d better get a move on, or he and Owen and Dylan will be there before we are.” She playfully swatted Melody with the mailing tube she’d picked up for Claire. The little girl giggled.

  When Renee and Melody pulled into her driveway a few minutes later, Rhys’s truck was already parked out front.

  “They beat us here,” Melody said. “Is Mr. Rhys going to be mad? Will used to get mad sometimes if Mommy wasn’t ready to go when he came to get her.”

  Renee made a mental note to talk with Melody’s grandmother about her opening up today and the little girl’s concerns about people leaving.

  “No, I’m sure Mr. Rhys won’t be mad.” The only times she’d seen him angry were when he’d thought his sons were threatened in some way. “I told him Thursday that if I wasn’t back, the fence gate would be open and he could put the painting supplies by the doghouse.”

  When Renee opened the car door, Owen and Dylan were right there, ready and eager to get going. Rhys took his time ambling over.

  “We’ve got everything set up to start painting,” Owen said.

  “That’s great, but I need a little help first carrying in stuff.”

  She popped the trunk, walked to the back of the car and handed first Owen and then Dylan a bag of groceries.

  “I can take two,” Owen said.

  “That’s okay. I gave you the heavy one with the cans.”

  Melody walked around from the other side of the car, and Renee handed her a light bag with bread and potato chips in it.

  “Wait for me at the top of the stairs,” she said. “I’ll need to unlock the door.” Renee reached into the trunk and lifted out two more bags.

  “I’ll take those.”

  The rumble of Rhys’s deep voice fueled her awareness that he was there. Right there beside her. She gulped a breath and relinquished the groceries with a smile she hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt.

  “You’ll need your hands free to open the door,” he said. “I’ll get the others, too.”

  Of course, he was just being helpful. Not like he wanted to show her how big and strong he was, like his sons. She didn’t need further evidence of that, anyway. His nearness made her acutely aware of his physical presence. And the loving care he took of his sons left no doubts in her mind about his strength as a man.

  “Thanks.” She scooted around him and strode toward the house. Within three steps, he’d grabbed the other three bags and caught up with her.

  “Where’s Melody’s grandmother?” Rhys asked.

  “Working. I offered to watch Melody for the day so she could help us. Why?”

  He shrugged. “I thought she’d be here, too. And Claire?”

  “She and Nick had plans. But I think the three kids will be enough of a chaperone.”

  Rhys made a strangled noise that could have been a laugh or a choke. Why had she said that? In the past couple of weeks he hadn’t given her any sign he was personally interested in her, that the kiss was anything more than a reckless impulse. Her inner voice taunted her. As if in-control Rhys Maddox ever does anything on impulse.

  “So we do need a chaperone?” he asked.

  His words stopped her midstep.

  Rhys had already taken the next step up, bringing him close enough that she could feel his heat and catch a spicy whiff of aftershave. For her benefit? She couldn’t recall him wearing any before.

  “It’s a possibility,” she said.

  “I like possibilities.”

  “What’s taking you guys so long?” Owen shouted.

  “Yeah.” Dylan peered around his brother on the platform at the top of the stairs, two steps away from her.

  Nothing, except my legs seem to have turned to jelly and I need to get them working again to climb the rest of the stairs.

  “Owen, we’re right here,” Rhys said.

  Renee
climbed the two stairs while Rhys told his sons, “You don’t have to shout.”

  “They’re just excited.” She bit her lip. Her experience with Rhys was that unless he asked, he didn’t like people managing him, especially when it concerned Owen and Dylan.

  Renee unlocked the door and opened it for the children.

  Rhys grabbed the edge of the door so Renee could go in ahead of him. “I know they’re excited.” He followed Renee into the kitchen and placed the grocery bags on the table with the bags the kids had carried in. “New things are exciting.”

  His blue eyes fixed on hers, causing a flutter of anticipation deep inside her.

  “They’ve never painted a doghouse before.” He grinned. “I’ve never painted a doghouse before.”

  And I’ve never felt quite this way about a man before. She pulled away and busied herself with the groceries. “I’ll put these away. You guys go ahead and start the painting.”

  “Me, too?” Melody asked.

  “If you want to, or you can help me.”

  Rhys held back for the little girl’s answer while his boys barreled to the door.

  “I want to paint,” Melody said.

  “All right. Go with Mr. Rhys, and I’ll be down as soon as I’m done.”

  Rhys held out his hand and took Melody’s tiny one in his, and Renee warmed at the sight. She knew the physical and emotional strength his grasp held.

  A few minutes later, Renee stood on the platform at the top of the stairs, viewing what looked like three little acolytes painting the doghouse a bright blue. To protect their clothes, Rhys had cut head and arm holes in the white trash bags that they wore.

  “Look, Miss Renee,” Melody said when Renee joined them. “I’m painting the whole back of the doghouse.”

  “And Dylan and I are painting the sides because we’re bigger and there’s more to paint,” Owen said.

  “I helped pick out the color,” Dylan added, not to be left out. “Blue is my favorite.”

  “It’s very bright and blue.” She clomped down the wooden stairway.

  Rhys shot her a lopsided grin that made her heart stutter. “A little more neon than the paint chip looked. I tried to steer them toward yellow to match the house, but I was outvoted.”

  “I see.” Renee eyed Rhys. “Nice gear.” Rhys, too, had on a white trash bag. It fit him like a second T-shirt.

  “I have to protect my clothes while I’m painting.”

  “You need a smock, too, if you want to paint, Miss Renee,” Melody said.

  “I have one right here,” Rhys added.

  “All you have to do,” Melody instructed her, “is lift up your arms and Mr. Rhys will drop it over you.”

  Renee did as told. The soft plastic slid over her. She poked her head through the opening and reached to tug down the bottom of the bag. Her fingers brushed Rhys’s, who had reached toward her to do the same. He locked eyes with her and the air between them went thick and still. Rhys lowered his head instinctively, as if he might kiss her again.

  But then he stepped back. “There you go. Ready to paint.”

  A cool breeze rustled her plastic smock and the leaves overhead. She needed to get her imagination under control. He hadn’t been about to kiss her. He wouldn’t kiss her here, not in front of the kids.

  “Let’s get to work,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You can paint the front and help me with the trim,” Rhys said.

  A couple of hours later, when Melody’s grandmother arrived, they were admiring their work while enjoying the lemonade Popsicles Renee had made the night before.

  “Grandma, look. It’s all painted.”

  “So I see.” The woman smiled a greeting to Renee and Rhys.

  “I did the back, the whole back.”

  “Good job, everyone. We need to get going, Melody. We have a barbecue at my son’s,” her grandmother explained. “Say goodbye to your friends.”

  “’Bye, everyone. And, Mr. Rhys, I liked painting with you.”

  “I’ll remember that next time I have painting to do.”

  A wide smile split her face. “Can I hug you goodbye?”

  “You most certainly can.”

  “It’s so good to see her smiling and talking,” Melody’s grandmother said in a quiet voice for Renee’s ears only. “She’s been especially reticent with men.”

  “You can thank Rhys’s participation in the Bridges group for that. He’s very good with the kids.”

  “I can see that. It’s an important quality in a man. Come on, Melody. We need to go.”

  Renee waved goodbye. Was the older woman making a subtle comment about her and Rhys? Did she see them as a couple? Concern smothered the flutter that thought triggered. Thinking of Melody’s questions earlier, she hoped the little girl hadn’t said something like that to her grandmother. Rhys would not like his private life feeding the local grapevine—not that she was part of his private life.

  “We’d better get going, too,” Rhys said.

  “If the boys want to help Claire and me pick out a dog, the North Country SPCA is having an adopt-a-pet event at the hardware store here a week from Wednesday. It’s five to seven in the evening. If you give Kids Place your permission, I could pick them up, and we could drop them off at your house afterward.”

  “No.”

  Her chest constricted with the fear that by extending her invitation in front of Owen and Dylan without clearing it with Rhys first, she’d overstepped.

  “We’ll all come. We can meet you there by six.”

  “Great.” She watched the trio leave, smiling at the two boys mimicking Rhys’s long-legged gait.

  Renee couldn’t remember the last day she’d had such fun, only that it was before her missionary work in Haiti. This afternoon, and the barbecue the other week, felt like coming home, and no matter how she tried to downplay it, Rhys was a big part of the reason. But was she ready to open her heart to the possibilities they’d both alluded to earlier?

  * * *

  All Owen and Dylan could talk about on the drive to Ticonderoga, all they’d talked about for the past week and a half, was dogs. Owen had found the SPCA website and the two of them had pored over the photos of the available dogs.

  “Your destination is five hundred feet on the right,” his phone GPS said.

  “Now, remember, we can’t get a dog tonight,” Rhys reminded them as he made the turn.

  “I know,” Owen said.

  “Maybe later,” Dylan chimed in.

  “Stay with me while we find Miss Renee,” Rhys said when they got out of the truck.

  “We don’t have to find her. She’s right there, walking toward us,” Owen said.

  Renee approached with a bounce in her step and a welcoming smile, seemingly as glad to see them as he was to see her. The waning sun behind her highlighted the arresting contrast between her creamy complexion and black hair.

  “You look pretty, Miss Renee,” Dylan said.

  His son had stolen his unspoken words. “The man has good taste,” Rhys said.

  Renee’s cheeks colored. “Thank you. The pets available for adoption are over there under the blue tents. Claire got delayed at work, so we’re on our own.”

  That information didn’t disappoint Rhys at all. The truth was that he hoped tonight would recapture the family feel of the Saturday they’d painted the doghouse, verify that it had been real, not just wishful on his part. He and Owen and Dylan were a package deal. Before he explored anything further between him and Renee, he had to be certain Renee was on board with that.

  “Did you already pick out a dog?” Owen asked.

  “No, I waited for you,” Renee said.

  “I checked the website and I think you might like Fancy or Colossus.”r />
  “Let’s see if they’re here.”

  When they reached the grass beside the parking lot where the tents were set up, Rhys let the boys go ahead, as much to have a minute with Renee as to take the edge off their excitement.

  “Don’t feel you have to choose one of the dogs Owen has picked out.”

  She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I know, and I appreciate your concern.”

  When Renee made no move to pull back her hand, he wrapped his around hers. The contentment that hummed through him blocked all of the noise and frenzy of the pets and the people checking them out. All he saw and felt was her beside him.

  “I found them.” Owen motioned them over. “This is Colossus.”

  The large, black Lab mix tugged at his leash and wagged his tail energetically at the sound of his name.

  “May I?” She stepped closer to the dog.

  “Yes, he’s very friendly,” the man holding his leash said.

  Renee knelt and patted his head. “You are a handsome boy.”

  “He’s great with kids, too,” the man said.

  Renee stood. “He may be a little large for my apartment. I’m going to check out some of the others.”

  “Fancy’s down here.” Owen pointed to the far end of the tent.

  Owen and Dylan led the way, while Rhys placed his hand on the small of Renee’s back and guided her through the people milling around the pets. “He’s a good-looking dog.”

  “A very large, good-looking dog, who’d be happier out in the country, like at your place.”

  “Whoa! As I told Owen and Dylan, we are not getting a dog tonight.”

  She raised her head toward the two of them, who were stopping to pet each dog they passed. “Those may be famous last words.”

  They caught up with the boys in front of a dog that looked like a miniature chocolate Lab.

  “This is Fancy,” Owen said.

  In contrast to Colossus, Fancy sat poised, studying them, her tail slowly swishing across the grass.