North Country Dad (Northern Lights #4)

by Lois Richer

  The Mommy Plan

  Widower Grant Adams loves his twin stepdaughters, but what does he know about pigtails and dresses and being a full-time dad? With his new job in a remote Canadian center for troubled boys, Grant needs a good nanny. But when he meets Dahlia Wheatley, who’s loving, patient and kind to his girls, he realizes the twins need more than a sitter—they need a mother. With her own harrowing past, Dahlia is as reluctant to get emotionally involved as Grant is. Yet his startling proposition just may form a happy new family of four.

  “Is something wrong?” Dahlia asked.

  Dahlia stood beside Grant, her face lifted as she searched his gaze.

  Those eyes of hers saw too much. He couldn’t bear for her to glimpse that lost part of him that had never quite recovered. He shook his head. All he wanted was to be a good father to his twin stepdaughters. But was he?

  Though Dahlia smiled, her beautiful hazel eyes didn’t have their usual twinkle. They locked on to his, freezing him in place.

  “Would you like to go for a coffee?” Dahlia asked after a moment. She had more to say about him and the girls, he knew.

  Grant was surprised by how much he wanted to say yes. “I should get the twins to bed,” he said.

  “May I help?” The sparkle flashed back into her eyes.

  “You want to help with bath time? You’ll get soaked,” he warned.

  “It’s happened before. I didn’t melt,” Dahlia teased. “As long as you don’t mind sharing them for a while.”

  Mind? He was delighted. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Books by Lois Richer

  Love Inspired

  *Mother’s Day Miracle

  *His Answered Prayer

  *Blessed Baby

  †Blessings

  †Heaven’s Kiss

  †A Time to Remember

  Past Secrets, Present Love

  ††His Winter Rose

  ††Apple Blossom Bride

  ††Spring Flowers, Summer Love

  §Healing Tides

  §Heart’s Haven

  §A Cowboy’s Honor

  §§Rocky Mountain Legacy

  §§Twice Upon a Time

  §§A Ring and a Promise

  Easter Promises

  “Desert Rose”

  ‡The Holiday Nanny

  ‡A Baby by Easter

  ‡A Family for Summer

  ‡‡A Doctor’s Vow

  ‡‡Yuletide Proposal

  ‡‡Perfectly Matched

  North Country Hero

  North Country Family

  North Country Mom

  North Country Dad

  Love Inspired Suspense

  A Time to Protect

  **Secrets of the Rose

  **Silent Enemy

  **Identity: Undercover

  *If Wishes Were Weddings

  †Blessings in Disguise

  **Finders Inc.

  ††Serenity Bay

  §Pennies from Heaven

  §§Weddings by Woodwards

  ‡Love for All Seasons

  ‡‡Healing Hearts

  Northern Lights

  LOIS RICHER

  began her travels the day she read her first book and realized that fiction provided an extraordinary adventure. Creating that adventure for others became her obsession. With millions of books in print, Lois continues to enjoy creating stories of joy and hope. She and her husband love to travel, which makes it easy to find the perfect setting for her next story. Lois would love to hear from you via www.loisricher.com or loisricher@yahoo.com, or on Facebook.

  NORTH COUNTRY DAD

  Lois Richer

  But if we must keep trusting God

  for something that hasn’t happened yet,

  it teaches us to wait patiently and confidently.

  —Romans 8:25

  To the wonderful folks in Churchill, Manitoba,

  who make the north country so much fun.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Questions for Discussion

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  “We’re orphans, just like Cinderella.”

  Dahlia Wheatley had forgotten how cute kids were.

  “Not quite,” she said with a smile. “You’ve got a daddy.”

  “Oh, yeah.” The auburn-haired twins glanced at the man sprawled out in the seat across the aisle, chin tucked into his chest, stubbled jaw barely visible. They smiled and went back to coloring.

  They’d scooted across the aisle forty minutes ago for a visit. Dahlia had encouraged them to stay and color with her markers while their dad slept. He looked weary, like a father who’d used every last ounce of energy to entertain his two young daughters.

  Dahlia could almost pretend she was part of their family. For a moment, she let herself imagine smoothing that unkempt hank of dark hair off his forehead, then she caught herself.

  She didn’t even know the man!

  “I’m hungry.” The wiggly twin, Glory, looked at Dahlia expectantly.

  “Me, too.” Grace handed Dahlia her marker. “When do we get to Churchill?”

  “Not until tomorrow morning. It’s a long train trip.”

  “Because Canada’s so big.” Glory nodded sagely. “I’ll get something to eat out of Daddy’s bag.”

  “Let’s leave Daddy alone.” Dahlia lowered her voice, not quite certain why it seemed so important to her that they not wake him up. “He looks very tired.”

  “That’s ’cause he’s not used to us,” Glory said. Dahlia thought the words sounded like something she’d overheard an adult saying. “He hasn’t been our daddy for very long. Our real daddy died.”

  “So did our mommy.” Grace looked at Glory with the most woeful expression Dahlia had ever seen. “She’s in heaven, with God.”

  “I see.” Touched by their grief, worried the two waifs would burst into tears, Dahlia thought fast. “I have a couple of chocolate pudding cups. Would they do?”

  “Yes, please.” Glory released the paper she’d been coloring and climbed up to sit next to Dahlia. Grace flopped beside her half a second later.

  Dahlia dug out the pudding cups she’d thrown in her bag before leaving Thompson to go back home to Churchill. Paying the high price for a plane ticket or enduring a lengthy train journey through Manitoba’s north country were the only choices available to reach Churchill. It took stamina for adults to endure the seventeen-hour train ride. Undertaking the trip with two energetic kids was a gutsy move.

  While the twins ate their pudding, Dahlia fell into a daydream about their sleeping father and the circumstances that had led to him becoming a father to the twins. A wet splat again her cheek snapped her back to reality.

  “I’m sorry,” Grace said, her blue eyes huge. “I was trying to scrape the bottom and the spoon snapped.”

  “You got it on her shirt.” Glory reached out to dab the mess with a tissue. She ended up creating a huge smear.

  “Thanks, sweetie, but I’ll do it.” Dahlia cleaned her shirt as best she could, knowing that the dark chocolate stain probably wouldn’t come out of her favorite top. �
��All finished?” she asked, eager to get the plastic spoons and containers into the garbage.

  “Yep.” Grace licked her spoon, depositing a drop of pudding at the side of her rosebud mouth before she held out her cup. “Thank you.” Her sister copied her.

  “You’re welcome.” Dahlia stored the trash, then pulled out a pack of wipes. “Let’s get cleaned up before your dad wakes up and wonders what happened to his cute girls.”

  As she wiped their grinning faces and tiny hands, the twins told her that they were moving to Churchill from a small town on the prairies where their stepfather had been a teacher. Dahlia wanted to know more about the handsome daddy, but the twins had other ideas.

  “Can we call you Dally?” Glory asked. “It’s a nickname. I like nicknames.”

  “My grandmother used to call me that,” Dahlia told her. Memories swelled but she pushed them away. This wasn’t the time.

  “Will you tell us a story?” Grace asked as she snuggled against her sister. “Our mom used to tell us lots of stories. Sometimes Daddy reads them from a book.” She tilted her head, her blue eyes intense. “Do you know any stories, Dally?”

  “I might be able to come up with one.” Dahlia spread the small hand-quilted cover the twins had brought with them from their seats. When they were covered, she waited for them to settle.

  This was what she used to dream about—kids, special sharing moments, someone on whom to shower the love she ached to give. Part of that dream had been a husband, of course. A man who’d love her as her ex-fiancé never had. A man perfectly comfortable with two little girls who couldn’t sit still, for example.

  At that moment, the man across the aisle opened his eyes—gray eyes that cool shade of hammered metal—and stared directly at her. A smile creased his full lips.

  “Go ahead with your story,” he said in a low, rumbly tone. “Don’t mind me.”

  Dahlia swallowed. Most definitely a hunk.

  “She’s going to tell us a special story.” Glory nudged her sharp little elbow into Dahlia’s side. “Aren’t you, Dally?”

  “Sure.” Dahlia swallowed to moisten her dry mouth and told herself to stop staring at the man across the aisle. He wasn’t smiling at you, silly. He was probably smiling because of a dream. You’re dreaming, too.

  “Are you sleeping?” Grace reached up and turned Dahlia’s head so she could examine it.

  “No, honey, just thinking,” Dahlia said, embarrassed to be caught in the act of admiring their father.

  “Do you know Sleeping Beauty? We love Sleeping Beauty, don’t we, Grace?” Glory bounced on the seat. “Tell us that story, Dally.”

  “Yeah,” the man across the aisle said in that husky voice. “Tell us that one.”

  But Dahlia was hooked on his deep voice and beautiful gray eyes. She couldn’t concentrate.

  Then he cleared his throat and her good sense returned. Now was not the time for distractions. She had too much going on in her life. This was not the time to get sidetracked by nice eyes.

  She forced her attention away from him and began her favorite fairy tale.

  “Once upon a time—”

  *

  I need a wife. Someone like that woman.

  Grant Adams glanced at the twins now asleep on either side of him, surprised he hadn’t woken up when they’d moved back beside him. The woman across the way was an amazing storyteller, her voice soft, melodic, like a lullaby. He’d let it lure him back into his dream world where life wasn’t so overwhelming.

  But though it was late and the rest of the car was dozing, Grant wasn’t sleepy now. He was nervous. They’d be in Churchill by morning and then his new life would begin. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was failing the twins by bringing them to such a distant place.

  A wife would have brought enough activities to keep the twins from being bored during the train ride. She certainly wouldn’t have let them bother other passengers, like the woman across the way. A wife would have known he’d need three times the snacks he’d packed.

  A wife could show these children she loved them.

  Not that Grant didn’t care for the twins. He did. Dearly. But he didn’t know how to be a father. He didn’t have the fatherhood gene—that’s why he’d avoided love and marriage. That’s why he’d vowed never to have children. Because he didn’t have what it took to be a dad.

  He’d studied enough psychology to know his lack of skill had to do with his mom walking out on his seventh birthday and leaving Grant with an embittered, angry man who drank until he was abusive. Grant had quickly learned to keep out of his dad’s way, to not cause a fuss. None of this had earned him that special bond other kids had with their fathers. After a while, he had given up trying to find it and left home with an empty spot inside that craved love. Two failed relationships later, Grant knew he couldn’t love. He’d vowed never to marry, never to have kids and expose them to the loveless childhood he’d endured.

  Until Eva.

  Eva of the sunny laughter and ever-present smile. Eva of the strong, unquenchable faith in God. Eva the optimist. After an entire year of persuasion, he’d finally accepted her love and her assurance that she could teach him how to be a husband and father. How could Grant not have married her? How could he not have adopted her two adorable girls?

  Pain pierced his battered heart. He’d been naive to believe God would let him have so much blessing in his life.

  Eva’s death from a brain aneurism just six months after their marriage had decimated Grant. He’d never imagined that God, the loving God Eva had talked about, would take the one person who’d finally loved him. Losing his job a few months later had stolen every scrap of faith Grant had left.

  So how could God possibly expect Grant of all people to be a father?

  “You look like you could use a cup of coffee.”

  Grant lifted his head and saw the woman from across the aisle who had told the twins a story full of princesses and happily-ever-after. This particular princess had long red-gold hair that tumbled in a riot of curls around her face and down her shoulders. He realized suddenly that it was the exact same shade as the twins’. She had pale features like those the Italian Renaissance masters had smoothed from rare alabaster. But it was her smile that captivated Grant—wide, generous and inviting, it chased away the chill on his spirit.

  “Maybe you don’t like coffee,” she said when he didn’t respond. Her smile faltered, a tiny frown line forming between her hazel eyes. “I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

  “You didn’t.” Grant smiled and eased one hand free. “I’d love a cup of coffee. Thank you.”

  “I hope you’re not just saying that to make me feel better.” Her smile returned when he shook his head. She handed him the cup with a twinkle in her eyes. “You’ve sure got your hands full. Your twins are adorable.”

  Grant took a sip of the coffee. Earlier, he’d noticed a dark stain on the woman’s emerald-green shirt, and a smudge on Glory’s cheek to match it. But she wore a blue top now. Grant felt a stab of guilt at the thought that she must have changed clothes. She looked refreshed and awake. Beside her, he felt sticky, tired and utterly weary. And he had hours to go until they finally arrived in Churchill.

  “How old are they?” she asked.

  “Five.”

  “Glory and Grace.” She sank into her seat across the aisle. “Wonderful names.”

  “I didn’t choose them,” Grant admitted. “I’m just their stepfather. Grant Adams.”

  “Hi, Grant. I’m Dahlia Wheatley. I own the hardware store in Churchill.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” He squeezed the words out, trying to hide his shock. Hardware? He could not think of a vocation less likely for this delicate-looking woman. Ballerina seemed more appropriate.

  “I’ll confess, I guessed why you’re on the way to Churchill. Laurel Quinn is a friend of mine.” Dahlia smiled at him. “She mentioned she’d soon have a new employee at her rehabilitation project. She’s eager to have you start
work. The boys seemed excited about you when she told them. But then I guess most preteens are excitable.” She grinned.

  “Lives Under Construction is a great name for a project for troubled boys.” Grant wondered how involved Dahlia would be with his workplace. “I’ll only be working there on a part-time basis, but I’m looking forward to getting started.”

  “It’s a great project. Once the boys figure out that the court did them a favor by giving them a chance to straighten out their lives instead of being locked up in a jail, they usually come around. Laurel will be glad you’re early,” she added. “Her newest group has already arrived. You’ll be able to meet with them before they start school.”

  “I wanted to get to Churchill before September because the twins will be starting school, too.”

  “They’re both clever. They’ll do well.” Dahlia’s face softened as she glanced at Grace and Glory. “Laurel’s rehabilitation program for troubled boys—we call it Lives—has gained a lot of recognition in the Canadian legal system.” Her voice proclaimed her pride. “There never seems to be a shortage of kids needing help. Fortunately that’s what they get at Lives, and now you’ll be part of it.”

  “I was surprised Lives is so far into Canadian north, but I suppose isolation is one of the reasons for the program’s success,” he mused.

  “I guess it helps that the boys can’t easily escape,” she teased. “But Lives’ success is mostly due to Laurel.” Dahlia’s hazel eyes glinted with gold as she studied him. “The building used to be an old army barracks. Her biggest asset though is the land. She can expand as Lives grows.”

  “So she has plans for the place?” he asked.

  “A lot. Laurel mentioned you’re a life skills coach?” When Grant nodded, Dahlia admitted, “I’m not sure I know what that means.”

  “It means I’ll be coaching the boys to figure out what they want from their futures,” he explained, “and hopefully help them discover how to get it without breaking the law again.”

  “I see.” Dahlia nodded, but those hazel eyes telegraphed her reservation. “Is that what you did before you came to Churchill? The twins said you were a teacher.”