North Country Dad (Northern Lights #4)

by Lois Richer

  Arlen turned and walked away. Tears rose to clog her throat as she finally accepted that reaching Arlen was impossible.

  Grant must have read something in her expression because he broke off his discussion and walked toward her.

  “Can I help?” he murmured.

  “I have to go home.”

  Desolate, she was barely aware of what was happening as Grant took over. He took her keys and helped her into her seat. He dropped the boys at Lives, drove her home and put on the kettle without asking. When the tea was ready, he set a cup in her hands. Then he squatted in front of her, placing his hands atop hers.

  “What’s wrong, Dahlia?”

  She looked into his eyes and gave voice to her painful acceptance of the truth she had to accept.

  “I don’t think God’s going to answer my prayer for Arlen, Grant.”

  *

  Dahlia’s words knifed straight into Grant’s heart. He could see defeat creeping in, taking over the woman who didn’t do defeat. He couldn’t stand it.

  “You can’t know that,” he reminded her. “God could be working on him without you even realizing it.”

  “Do you think so?”

  Dahlia’s earnest, desperate question sent Grant off balance. He wasn’t any more certain of God’s intent for her life than he was of God’s intent for his own. But surely God wouldn’t disappoint a woman like Dahlia, who trusted Him so completely?

  “I think you have to take your own advice. Trust,” he said, recalling a past conversation they’d shared. “No second-guessing, remember?”

  After a moment, her head lifted, her shoulders went back and she smiled. “Maybe you’re right.” She slipped one hand free to cover his and squeezed. “Maybe now isn’t the time to lose faith. I have to keep trusting.”

  Grant couldn’t help it. Her sweet smile, the blaze in her hazel eyes, the trusting way she looked at him—he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

  At first she startled, but then Dahlia leaned into the kiss. Her hand left his to slide around his neck, drawing him closer.

  For Grant these moments were poignantly special. Possibilities loomed. Perhaps he could love someone, Grant thought. Perhaps he wouldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps.

  But he was like his dad. Eva had thought he wasn’t, but she’d never known the bursts of anger that surged inside him, or his struggle to control them.

  But Dahlia would know.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Gently, he eased away from her, anxious to put some distance between them.

  “Why not?” Her hazel eyes brimmed with confusion.

  “I can’t get involved, Dahlia.” He ignored his heart’s yearning.

  “But you’re looking for a wife.”

  “I’m looking for a mother for the twins,” he corrected gently. “I’m not…available for anything else.”

  She fell silent, her eyes searching his. Grant kept his expression as neutral as he could. Dahlia was good and sweet and lovely. It would be so easy to love her but he clung to his resolve.

  “You’re right,” she whispered. “I can’t afford to get sidetracked.” She moved away from him. “We should talk about the twins’ party.”

  Grant rose and sat opposite her. “You don’t have to help, Dahlia.”

  “I want to, Grant. Truly.”

  She began listing things they could do for the girls. Grant scribbled notes, trying to forget what had just happened between them.

  “Does that help?” She arched one eyebrow.

  “Yes. Thanks.” He checked his watch and rose. “I’d better get to work. Laurel will be bringing the girls back soon.” If Dahlia realized he was eager to escape, she didn’t show it.

  “Thanks for helping with the track.” She didn’t look at him.

  “That was fun. And at least Arlen revealed a little more about himself. That’s progress.” He waited. When she stood without looking at him, he wished he’d handled things differently. He hated the awkwardness that now loomed between them.

  “Yes, it is.” She walked him to the door. “I’ve got a big sale on Saturday at the store, but I should be able to sneak away if you need help with the party.”

  “No,” he said in sudden decision. “You’ve done more than enough.”

  She did look at him then, surprise in her green eyes. “You’re sure?”

  “It’s about time I do my job as a parent, don’t you think?”

  “You’ll do fine, Grant,” she said. “You love them. That’s all they need.”

  He said good-night and left. But inside his head, a voice kept asking, Is love really enough for the twins?

  In his heart he knew it was the only thing Dahlia wanted and he couldn’t give it.

  But oh, how wonderful to finally hold her in his arm, to kiss her as he’d longed to for so long. He drove home reliving every moment.

  *

  She shouldn’t have done it.

  But Dahlia could no more have stopped herself from peeking in on Glory and Grace’s birthday party than fly to the moon.

  Plus, she wanted to see Grant again.

  She pulled into his driveway, trying to ignore the memory of his kiss. It was nothing, she kept telling herself, but unfortunately, her heart wasn’t getting the message.

  She couldn’t waste time wishing otherwise. She glanced at her purse. Every nerve in her body tensed at what lay inside. A note she’d received yesterday, from her mother.

  We want to see what you’ve accomplished up there, she’d written.

  A thousand emotions raced through her. Seeing them again—would they finally accept that she was strong, capable even though the track wasn’t yet finished? Had they forgiven her for leaving? Would they try to persuade her to return home?

  Is she wanted their approval, Dahlia knew she had to get the track finished. She sighed, shut off her worries and walked to the house.

  “Hi, Dally,” the twins squealed when they opened the door.

  “Happy birthday to both of you,” she said, relishing their embraces. She handed each girl a gift bag.

  “Thank you. We’re going to open them later,” Glory told her. “Right now we’re having a party. Daddy made it.”

  “We have balloons and everything.” Grace’s blue eyes shone with excitement. “And Arlen’s going to take us on a treasure hunt.”

  “Aren’t you lucky.” Dahlia held her smile when Grant appeared. He looked less frazzled than she’d expected. “How’s it going?”

  Arlen appeared. Before he ushered the twins back to their guests, he gave Dahlia a nod. She was astonished.

  “It’s going better than I thought it would.” Grant grinned at her surprise. “I decided to do everything I always wanted and never had. A bit crazy maybe, but it seems to be working. Arlen’s been great.” Grant led her to the living room.

  The room was party central. The pushed-back furniture allowed plenty of room for activities. Balloons covered the ceiling. One wall featured multicolored donkey tails, though the rest of the animal had disappeared. Through the patio door, she saw tiny boats floating in a paddling pool.

  Grant grasped her arm, motioning to the circle of girls sitting on the floor, with Arlen between the twins.

  “They’re playing a whispering game. Come into the kitchen. I’ve got the coffeepot on.”

  “It’s all fantastic, Grant. I don’t know why you thought you needed help.”

  He motioned for her to sit at the table, which was covered with cupcakes.

  “Those are for decorating later.” He handed her a steaming cup of coffee and sat opposite her, his face beaming.

  “I always thought you were a wonderful father, Grant,” she told him, surprised by the tears filling her eyes. “The twins couldn’t be blessed with anyone better. You’re amazing.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “Thanks, Dahlia. That means a lot to me, coming from you.

  She tried to gain control of her emotions, for his sake as much as hers. “H
ow did you persuade Arlen to help?”

  “He volunteered,” Grant told her. “He showed up here this morning and took the twins on what he called a ‘birthday walk’ so I could get things ready. When I mentioned my idea of a treasure hunt, he said he knew exactly how to do it. I think being with the twins has been therapeutic for him.”

  “I’m sure.” Dahlia wished she’d had some way to help Arlen. She was glad he’d found comfort with the twins but she knew he needed more. “Can I ask a favor? If you get a moment, can you sound out Arlen? When he told me about his sisters, I got the feeling that he’s never really come to terms with their deaths.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same,” Grant told her. “I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to bring up the topic.”

  “Thank you,” she said, a rush of relief filling her. Too bad she couldn’t turn to Grant for answers about her parents. “So how can I help?”

  “You can’t. You’re an invited guest,” he insisted. “I didn’t expect you until later. How’s your sale going?”

  “My staff have things well in control. I’m not needed.” A burst of giggles echoed from the next room. She rose. “So what’s next?”

  “The treasure hunt. That’s Arlen’s idea,” Grant told her as they walked into the living room. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we tag along. I want to take some pictures.”

  Dahlia watched as Grant snapped candid shots of the twins and their friends searching for treasure. The big surprise, however, came when Arlen mentioned how much his sisters had loved treasure hunts.

  “Once I even put foil chocolate coins in a box and buried it in the backyard,” he murmured, watching the kids search for the last clue. “They loved it.”

  “Grace and Glory love you.” Dahlia smiled at him. “It’s kind of you to help Grant.”

  “He’s a good dad.” Arlen watched Grant climb a rock to get a better angle. “He doesn’t think he is, though.”

  Curious to hear Arlen’s viewpoint, she frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he hesitates before he makes decisions just like my dad used to. He didn’t think he could be a good father either.”

  “Was he a good father?” she asked as calmly as she could, hardly able to believe he was talking like this.

  “My grandfather was mean,” he said through clenched teeth. “My dad was afraid he’d turn out the same. My grandfather always said my dad was just like him. But it was a lie. Most of what my grandfather said was a lie.” His voice dropped. “But not about me.”

  “What did he say about you?” Dahlia frowned.

  “My grandfather said I killed my sisters. And he was right, I did. I didn’t mean to but I did.” Arlen angrily dashed the wetness from his eyes. “I loved them more than anything, but I killed them. That’s why my mother never wants me to come home.”

  She stared at him, too shocked to summon words that would help him. He stood alone, a solitary figure in his pain, until Glory called his name.

  For the rest of the afternoon, Dahlia studied Arlen.

  When Grant approached her later, she pulled him aside. “I think you need to talk to Arlen sooner rather than later, Grant,” she whispered. “He just told me he thinks he’s responsible for his sisters’ deaths.”

  Every time she looked at him now she was reminded of their kiss. And every time she had to quash the yearning for more.

  “That is serious.” Surprised, Grant nodded. “I’ll make it a point to talk to him as soon as I can.”

  She should be keeping her distance from Grant, but asking Grant to help her with Arlen would make keeping that distance impossible.

  But she had to do it because together she and Grant could make a difference in the life of this boy who so touched her heart.

  Chapter Eleven

  Utterly and totally exhausted from the birthday party that was still going, and his attempts at a private chat with Arlen, which kept getting interrupted, Grant’s hope of peace crashed when he remembered Kyle’s turkey shoot. Dahlia, by contrast, looked ready for the next activity.

  “How do you do it? You worked at the store, raced all over town with Arlen’s treasure hunt, and yet you look like you just woke from an afternoon nap.”

  “Naps are for wimps,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  A sound from the living room made him look past Dahlia to where the twins were opening their gifts from Dahlia. Glory was crying. He hurried over to comfort her, wondering at the cause.

  “Look, Daddy.” Glory said between sniffs. “Dally gave us memory books just like the ones Mommy used to make.”

  “We miss Mommy,” Grace wailed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Very aware of Arlen and Dahlia watching him, Grant pulled out a tissue and dabbed at the tears on their cheeks.

  “You don’t talk about Mommy,” Grace said, her voice slightly accusing.

  Glory’s clear blue eyes gazed into his. “Don’t you miss Mommy?”

  What could he say? That he hadn’t talked about Eva because he didn’t want to remember all he’d lost? Because he didn’t want them to remember the wonderful life they’d had with her and realize he wasn’t measuring up? Because he didn’t want to cause them pain?

  “Tell them,” Dahlia whispered, stuffing more tissues into his hand. “They need to hear.”

  “I remember your mom, Glory. I don’t think I’ll ever forget her.” Grant took Dahlia’s advice and began to share memories he’d kept private until now.

  “The first time I saw your mom she was playing with you two in the park. You were going down the slide and you, Glory, were scared. She kept telling you not to be afraid.”

  “I like slides,” Glory said, her tears dissipating.

  “You do now, because she taught you how to go down, just like she taught you to try different things.”

  “Like pomegranates,” Grace remembered. “Mommy got me to taste pomegranates.”

  “And onions,” Glory added. Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t like onions.”

  The other children loudly agreed.

  “What else, Daddy?” Grace asked.

  “I remember how your mom would hug you every night and put a special kiss on your forehead,” he continued.

  “I can’t remember Mommy doing that.” Glory’s grin faded. “Why can’t I remember, Daddy?”

  Grant didn’t have an answer to that. He felt every eye on him. The happiness on the twins’ faces slowly faded and he knew it would only be moments until their tears returned. Why didn’t he have the right words to say?

  “Nobody remembers everything about the people who died.” Arlen crouched down, his voice somber. “I can’t remember everything about my sisters. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t love them or that they didn’t love me.”

  Grace leaned her head on Arlen’s shoulder. “How come?”

  “Because people we love are tucked inside our hearts. Right here,” he said, tapping his chest. “We can’t remember everything, but every so often we remember something special like you did today when you opened those memory books. Maybe you can draw a picture in the book and that’ll help you remember this birthday.”

  Glory looked at Grace. They nodded. Good humor restored, they thanked Dahlia for the books and the multicolored markers. “We like markers.”

  “I remember,” Dahlia said with a chuckle.

  Grant looked at her, suddenly recalling that first day on the train. He remembered seeing a yellow streak on the back of her jacket when they’d disembarked. Suddenly he knew the twins had a hand in making that yellow mark, though Dahlia had never said a word to him about it. What a lady.

  “Do you want to open the rest of your gifts now?” The twins nodded, so Grant rose and moved out of the circle. Arlen followed. “Thank you,” he said to the boy. “I appreciate you telling us about your sisters.”

  “You were right.” Arlen followed him to the kitchen. “It does feel better to talk about my sisters. Maybe I’ll tell you more someday.”

&nbs
p; “I’d be honored.” Grant smiled, relieved that something had finally gotten through that tough shell. “Can you help the girls open the rest of their gifts now?”

  Arlen nodded.

  “You’ve had quite a day,” Dahlia said, helping Grant restore the kitchen to order. “I wish he’d discuss his sisters more. I wonder what happened. He didn’t tell you, did he?” She frowned when Grant shook his head.

  “I think Glory is trying to find out.” Grant lifted an eyebrow and tipped his head in the direction of the twins, who sat snuggled next to Arlen on the sofa. “Is it wrong to listen in?”

  “Not when we’re trying to help him.” Dahlia set two chairs near the doorway, poured two cups of coffee and offered him one. Grant took it and sat beside her, very aware of her soft fragrance and the way her curls tumbled down her back. Sitting here beside her seemed so right. Then he heard Grace ask, “What were your sisters like, Arlen?”

  Grant hoped the boy wouldn’t brush off her question or hurt her feelings. He should have known better. Amusement threaded through Arlen’s voice.

  “Goofy. Just like you.” He tweaked her pert nose. “Andrea and Priscilla loved to paint. They painted pictures of everything. I always gave them paints for their birthday and Christmas.”

  “Oh, no,” Grant groaned in a whisper to Dahlia. “Now the twins will want to paint.”

  She smothered a laugh, her eyes dancing.

  “Did you tell them bedtime stories?” Grace asked.

  “All the time.” His face looked vulnerable in the lamplight. “And they fell asleep in the middle of them, just like you do.”

  “And then they died,” Glory said. “Like Mommy.” Arlen nodded. “Did they get sick?”

  “No.” Arlen’s voice tightened. “It was my fault.”

  “Why?” Glory asked.

  “Because I didn’t do my job and take care of them. I forgot because I was in a hurry.”

  “You forgot?” Grace touched his cheek, her voice very tender when he nodded. “That’s okay. People forget lots of things. I forgot to tell Daddy I loved him last night.”

  A lump lodged in Grant’s throat.

  “I forgot to put the lid on Daddy’s special pen,” Glory added, not to be outdone by her sister. “Now it doesn’t write anymore. That’s my fault. But that’s not like when your sisters went to heaven, is it?”