A Father for Bella

by Jill Weatherholt

  “When you said early, you weren’t kidding.” Faith smiled as she moved aside to allow him to enter. Dressed in jeans and a crisp white shirt, and her hair pulled up in a tousled bun, she’d apparently been up for a while, too.

  “I hope I’m not too early, but we’ve got a lot of planning to do. I’ve taken care of breakfast.” His mind had been going nonstop since four o’clock this morning. “Mrs. Watson is going to run out and pick up bagels, fruit and yogurt for the guests. So we’ll have to get going on lunch. I’ve got a ton of ideas for the week ahead.”

  “I’d offer you some coffee, but it appears you’ve already had plenty.”

  He walked toward the coffee maker, where Faith stood holding the pot. He reached for a mug on the counter and held it out in front of her. “One thing you’ll learn about me, I can never have enough caffeine.”

  She filled his cup with the piping hot brew. “Well, at least there’s one thing we can agree on.”

  They both settled down at the kitchen table and Joshua opened his laptop. “I’ve made up a calendar so we can record the meals for each day and pass it out to the guests.”

  “What a good idea.” Faith opened up her spiral notebook. “I jotted down a few of Michael’s specialties the guests seem to enjoy—nothing complicated.” She slid the book in front of him.

  “So what? You don’t think I can cook anything more than beans and franks?”

  Her face flushed. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m trying to make it as easy for you as possible. After all, you’re doing this as a favor to me...at least, that’s what you said yesterday.”

  Why was he being so defensive? She was only trying to help. “I’m sorry. I appreciate the list.” He scanned the pages and nodded. “This is good. I know how to make most of these meals, except I don’t cook chicken parmesan.”

  She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “But it’s one of Michael’s top dishes.”

  He took his red pen and scratched through the dish. “Sorry, but it’s not an option.” It had been his ex-wife’s favorite meal. It was the first thing he’d ever cooked for her when they started dating. Now he wondered if she’d loved the dish more than him.

  Faith watched him with a look of confusion. “Okay, then, how about fried chicken? Is it an option or should I nix anything in the poultry area?”

  “Any other type of chicken is fine.”

  Faith’s phone chimed. She frowned as she examined the screen.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s an email from your father’s attorney about the kitchen renovations.” She paused and continued to scan her device. “Apparently, it’s going to be at least a month or maybe longer until everything is completed.”

  Joshua’s shoulders slumped. Such a delay meant the auction probably wouldn’t happen for at least a month.

  Faith blew out an extended breath. “Oh, boy. You might want to reconsider your offer to cook. That’s a long time.”

  It did seem like a lengthy amount of time for a kitchen. Could his father have possibly gotten wind of the fact his son planned to bid on the inn? He’d asked Melissa to keep this to herself. Surely, as his attorney, she wouldn’t betray him? Could she be carrying a grudge after he’d up and married her best friend? Not that that had been the best decision he’d ever made.

  “Well, it’s a blessing we at least can use the dining room. I’m not sure you’d enjoy the guests eating three meals a day in your kitchen.”

  Her expression softened. “Can I ask you something?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure.”

  “Does your father know you’re here to bid on the inn?”

  “No, he doesn’t—and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Faith’s eyebrows squished together. “I don’t understand. If he knew you wanted the inn, wouldn’t he just give it to you or at least let you purchase it directly from him?”

  In a perfect family, it would probably be the scenario. But he’d known at a young age that his family was far from perfection. “It’s a little more complicated.” The argument leading up to his resignation flashed through his mind. He’d never seen his father so angry. But then again, Joshua had never felt rage like he had then. Sure, he could have handled it differently, but that day, his love for his mother had overridden his sense of reason.

  Faith shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t meddle into family business.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s get back to the menu. I thought for lunch I could make some beef stew. How does that sound?”

  “What’s better on a snowy day? It sounds delicious.”

  “I’ll make some corn bread to go along with it. My mother made the best I’ve ever tasted. I’ll use her recipe.” He tapped his fingers along the keyboard, entering the information into the calendar.

  Faith smiled. “It sounds like you and your mother are close.”

  His fingers stopped typing as he locked eyes with hers. “She died recently.” His attention turned back to the computer screen.

  “I’m sorry. Had she been ill?”

  Heaviness filled his heart. “She had cancer. It came on fast. She was gone in six months.”

  She shifted in her chair and fingered her gold chain.

  He nodded. “To answer your question—yes, we were close.” He swallowed the knot pressing against his throat. “She was the only person who ever believed in me.”

  Bella’s voice echoing down the hall broke the silence.

  Faith stood and pushed in her chair. “It’s time for her to get ready for school.”

  He closed up the laptop and stood. “I’m going to head over to the hotel and finalize the menu for the week before I check out. Then I’ll hit the grocery store.” Taking note of the time on his phone, he grabbed his jacket. “I’ll be back around ten fifteen to begin preparing lunch—if it’s okay with you.”

  “That’ll be fine.” She strolled toward her purse sitting on the counter. “Let me give you the inn credit card for the groceries.” Her eyes softened as she handed it to him. “I’m really sorry about your mother, Joshua.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

  Outside, the snow had tapered to flurries. Joshua stowed the computer in the trunk and rounded the car. Inside, he secured his seat belt and turned the ignition. When his phone chirped, he took a quick glance at the screen. He shifted in his seat. Why would his financial advisor be calling at this hour of the morning? “Hey, Joe, what’s up?”

  A brief delay on the line caused a moment of uneasiness. “You there?”

  “Joshua, sorry, I couldn’t hear you for a second.”

  Garbled voices carried through the phone. “Are you catching the subway already?” He turned off the car.

  “Yeah, busy day today. Listen, I have some bad news.”

  Joshua’s stomach quivered. The last time he’d heard those words was from his mother’s doctor. “What is it?”

  “I’ve been doing some number crunching. If you invest only the funds in your money market account for the auction, it might leave you a little thin in the wallet. I can’t in good faith recommend you go forward with a financial decision so risky.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was to access any of his father’s money to gain ownership of the inn, but there was no other way. “Go ahead and leave me enough in the account to keep me afloat for a year, and use the rest from my trust account.”

  “Well, that’s the bad news, bud...uh, your father cut off your trust.”

  His heartbeat pounded in his eardrums. “What? Can he do that?”

  “He’s done it, so I guess so.”

  Before they said their goodbyes, Joe promised to call back in a day or two, giving him time to digest the news. Joshua blew out a heavy breath. He knew his father had been angry when he up and quit his job. They hadn
’t spoken since he quit, not even at the funeral, but cutting him off? Did he really hate his only son that much?

  He sat in silence, shocked by the news. It was then he recalled one of his mother’s favorite verses: For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Smiling, he started the car and gazed out the window toward the sky. “Don’t worry, Mom, like you used to say, there’s always hope when you put your trust into the Lord.”

  * * *

  For dinner Thursday evening, Joshua had made the decision to take all the guests into town for pizza. He’d told Faith he thought she needed a break from him commandeering her kitchen, what seemed like every hour, since the fire.

  The chili bubbled inside the slow cooker while the tomato and spinach salads chilled in the refrigerator. The aroma of the French baguette browning in the oven filled Faith’s kitchen.

  She’d decided she and Bella would forgo the trip into town with the others. Since the day she’d overheard her daughter telling Joshua about her father’s photographs being locked away, Faith hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force the conversation from her brain. She couldn’t imagine what he must think of her. Withholding photographs and not sharing any memories of Bella’s father with her...who did such a thing? Why hadn’t she ever thought of how this might affect her daughter? Her decision to pack away all of the pictures had been a selfish one—and one that had obviously backfired. Stuffing the photos away hadn’t erased the pain; it only magnified the truth. Her husband had died because of her.

  Faith inhaled a deep breath and released. “Dinner’s ready, sweetie.” In need of something to stop her hands from shaking, she hurried to the refrigerator and removed the salads. She unscrewed the lid to the Italian dressing and lightly poured it onto the salads. “Don’t forget to wash your hands.” After placing the greens on the table, she scooped two servings of chili into Bella’s favorite bowls.

  All smiles and whistling a tune, Bella skipped into the kitchen and plopped into her chair. Faith recalled when her daughter learned to skip at the age of three. Since then, whenever she entered a room, she was skipping.

  “It smells good, Mommy. I love your chili.”

  Faith placed the meal on the table. No time like the present. She forced herself to relax and took a seat across from her daughter. “Do you know who else loved chili?”

  “Who?”

  She swallowed hard before speaking. “Your daddy—it was his favorite. He always thought the spicier the better.”

  “Just like me!”

  Her husband had had a mouth made of cast iron. “Yes, exactly.” Surprised by how good she felt, she wanted to share more. “Do you know what else he liked?”

  “What?” Bella bounced up and down in her chair, anxious to hear the answer.

  “He loved the miniature saltine crackers,” she answered, scooping a handful from the box she had put there earlier and placing some into both bowls.

  Bella’s smile revealed the missing tooth that had fallen out last week. “Like me.”

  Faith blotted a tear with her napkin. “Exactly.”

  “What else—what else?” Bella spooned a heaping mouthful of meat and beans into her mouth.

  Why had Faith waited so long? She wanted to bottle this feeling. Bella deserved to know what a wonderful man her father was and how much he loved her. “Your daddy loved the snow. Every year, after the first snow of the season, he’d make a snowman in the backyard. When it melted and another snow came, he’d do it all over again. He wanted a snowman guarding our house all winter.”

  Faith watched as her daughter wiped a tear, but then a smile tipped her lips. “Mommy, is it going to snow soon?”

  “I think it’s in the forecast.”

  Bella speared her salad with her fork. “Can we make a snowman in the backyard like Daddy used to do?”

  “Of course we can.”

  Her daughter’s left eyebrow rose. “But can we make two instead of one—side by side?”

  “I think it would be a great idea. We’ll check out the weather on the computer later.”

  Bella tossed a few more miniature saltines into her chili before taking another bite. “What else did Daddy love?”

  “Well, you know the rocking chair up in your bedroom?”

  “The one Grandpa made when I was still in your tummy?”

  She smiled. “Yes, that’s the one. Your daddy loved to hold you in his arms and rock in that chair. He would sing softly until you fell asleep and then he’d watch you for hours.”

  Bella gazed toward the window. “Even though I never knew him, I miss Daddy.”

  Faith’s heart ached for her daughter. “I know you do. I miss him, too. I’m sorry I’ve never talked about him with you before tonight.”

  Bella jumped out of her chair and climbed into her mother’s lap. “It’s okay—I know it makes you sad.”

  She kissed Bella’s forehead. “Not anymore. What do you say if starting today, we talk about your daddy at least once a day? Even if it’s to say how much we love him.”

  “Yes!”

  Faith’s heart soared at her daughter’s excitement. “After we finish dinner, I thought you and I could go up into the attic and go through some pictures.”

  “You mean I can hold a picture of Daddy against my heart so he’ll know how much I love him?” Bella wiggled loose from Faith’s arms. “Let’s go now!”

  She’d brought a few to the table, knowing Bella would be too excited to wait. “We’ll finish our dinner first, but you can look at a couple before we eat. I thought you could pick some of your favorites. Then we’d go shopping for some special frames for your bedroom. How does that sound?”

  With a curious eye, Bella studied the photograph of her father in uniform. It was taken on the day of his graduation from the fire training academy. “Can I frame this one?”

  Faith remembered every detail of the day. She’d woken up at three in the morning to an empty bed. She’d gone downstairs and found her husband at the kitchen table reading his Bible. She’d assumed he was too excited about starting work with the Whispering Slopes Fire Department. Instead, she’d found he was scared. As long as Faith had known him, he’d never expressed fear. Chris was a believer who trusted in the Lord. When she questioned him, he’d told her he was afraid to start a family because something terrible could happen to him.

  “Can I, Mommy?”

  Her child was beaming. Guilt swept in like a rushing tide. She’d been so wrong. Bella missed her father just as much as she missed her husband. She’d deprived her daughter of the chance to know him. “Yes, you can have as many pictures as you’d like.”

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday, with the temperatures in the upper twenties and a brilliant, crystal clear sky, was a perfect day for the annual Whispering Slopes snowman-making contest.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to be on a team with Joshua,” Joy said as she helped Faith set up the concession stand in the afternoon. “I guess you two have put your differences aside.”

  She hadn’t put anything aside. Her plan hadn’t changed just because Joshua was helping with the meals. Faith had no doubt of his motives. “Not really.” She pulled a stack of foam cups from a box under the table. “You can thank your niece for this awkward pairing.”

  Joy laughed. “I think it’s cute. Of course, Joshua doesn’t really strike me as a snowman-making kind of guy.”

  Faith knew why he’d agreed. “He’s doing it for Bella. For some reason, the two have some kind of connection.” She placed a stack of paper plates on the table, next to the homemade caramel brownies. “I don’t really get it, but Bella’s happy.”

  “I think it’s pretty obvious.”

  Faith tucked a strand of hair underneath her pink
ski hat. “What?”

  “Remember last year, when I dated Rick?”

  Yes, the infamous Rick. Joy had met him at a teacher’s conference in Richmond. The two hit it off and started a long-distance relationship lasting for over a year...until he’d proposed and Joy found she wasn’t quite ready to give up her independence. “Of course I remember him, but what does he have to do with any of this?”

  “Bella latched on to him. She wanted to be with him whenever he was in town.”

  Where was Joy going with this? “I’m sorry... I don’t understand what Rick has to do with Bella’s attachment to Joshua?”

  “She wants a father figure in her life.”

  Faith knew that was what Bella prayed for every night, but it still smarted. “Don’t you think Bella gets enough love at home?” The thought wrenched her heart.

  Joy turned away from the snacks and toward her sister. “Oh, no, sweetie, that’s not what I’m saying.” She rubbed Faith’s arm and smiled. “Bella gets more than enough love.”

  “Then why would you say something like that?”

  The smell of burning firewood drifted past the table. Mr. Watson was getting ready to start roasting hot dogs and grilling hamburgers.

  “It’s a different dynamic, the relationship between a father and daughter. It has nothing to do with Bella not getting enough love from you.”

  Faith considered her sister’s words, but didn’t want to believe them. She looked up when she heard the familiar whistle. Through the snow glare bouncing off the table, she saw Bella skipping alongside Joshua, with her hand firmly planted in his.

  “Yep...just like Rick,” Joy said as she spotted the two.

  “Mommy—look who’s here.”

  Faith’s breath hitched. Wearing aviator sunglasses, Joshua was dressed in black jeans and a camel leather jacket. He looked more like he was attending a modeling shoot than a day of building snowmen.

  “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  “Hello,” the sisters replied in unison.

  “Bella, I thought you were going to help Mrs. Watson get some of the food ready?” Faith eyed her daughter, who remained glued to Joshua’s side.