by Lois Richer
“How did you?” She couldn’t conceal her curiosity.
“You helped me see there is no right way to parent, though I guess I had to hear it again from Rick to have it sink in. I do what I can and keep praying for help.” Grant shrugged. “I still doubt every decision I make. I probably always will. But that isn’t going to keep me from acting.”
“Good for you.” Dahlia smiled at him. “I think Eva would be proud.” After a moment she said, “It’s hard to go on without someone you loved.”
After a pause he said, “It’s getting easier.”
“But?” Dahlia heard an unfinished note in his voice.
“I’m not a person who knows much about love, Dahlia.”
“I don’t understand.” Dahlia wondered at the strain underlying his words.
“Love is practically a foreign concept to me,” he explained. “My mom left when I was very young. My dad was— He wasn’t a loving man. He was probably angry because she left me behind, but I’ve stopped making excuses for his behavior.”
“He was abusive?” Dahlia’s heart sank as his expression confirmed it. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Grant.”
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. Tension shifted the lines on his face as he fought his past.
“My father demanded more than any kid should have to give and he took without ever saying thank you. He treated me like a servant. I doubt he even noticed when I left.”
No wonder he’d struggled with fatherhood.
The desolate remark reached straight into Dahlia’s heart, especially when he looked straight at her.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the twins. Why didn’t he feel like that about me? How did I alienate him?”
Dahlia set her cup down and moved her chair next to his. She slid her arm around his shoulder. “You have to know it wasn’t you.”
“My head knows it, but—” He gave her a wry smile.
“Your father’s problems had nothing to do with you, Grant. Maybe no one ever loved him the way he yearned to be loved.”
Grant lifted his head. “I never thought of that.”
“Perhaps your father never had anyone tell him he was worthwhile or that he mattered.” Suddenly unnerved by her proximity to him, she eased her arm away and immediately regretted the loss of contact. “What about your mother?”
“I looked for her years ago. She died of cancer within a year of leaving my father. Maybe she needed to get away to die in peace.”
“It’s odd how everything in our lives always harks back to our childhood,” Dahlia mused.
“Eva said our minds are molded in those tender years,” he murmured. A half smile tugged at his lips. “I once told her I never wanted to be responsible for anyone else, that I wouldn’t marry because I couldn’t be a family man.”
“You didn’t want more children?” Dahlia hid her surprise. “What did Eva say?”
“She said nothing was ever so bad it couldn’t be changed by love. She kept saying she loved me.” He glanced down at their entwined fingers. “In hindsight, I was dependent on Eva. I’m not sure I gave as much as I got,” he admitted. “Eva made it comfortable for me to remain aloof from everything. She bore the load in our relationship. She should have demanded more of me. She deserved more.” His fingers tightened on hers.
“I never realized how little I gave back until I noticed the couples around here. They depend on each other. In order to work, their relationship needs both of them fully participating.”
Dahlia nodded.
“I never knew caring about someone could be so demanding yet so fulfilling.” His gray gaze met hers.
“You sound as if you’ve now found someone else to love.” A shaft panic ripped through her when he slowly nodded. Who had Grant found to love?
“The twins, of course.” Grant grinned and she grinned back as relief flooded through her. He hadn’t found a mom for the twins. Yet. “I know it’s not romantic, but I’d do anything to keep them safe and happy. In fact, that’s my new goal.”
“You’ve given up on finding a mother for them?”
“Maybe loving the twins is the only kind of love I can have.” Grant looked down. “Maybe I’m not capable of the kind of love others experience.”
“I don’t believe that,” Dahlia told him firmly. “I think God wants His children to experience all the shades of love He created.”
“Maybe.” Grant eased his hand from hers and leaned back in his chair. “When I first started speaking to Rick a couple of weeks ago, he recited a verse to me that’s echoed in my head ever since. ‘God hasn’t given us a spirit of fear, but of love and of power and of a sound mind.’”
“It’s a good one.”
“Rick told me that if I put that verse in the boys’ vernacular, it would be, ‘God didn’t create any dummies.’” He chuckled. “I repeat that when I’m fighting my spirit of fear.”
While Grant sat in silent contemplation, self-truth filled Dahlia.
She loved Grant.
She hadn’t tried very hard to find a mother for the girls because she wanted to be the woman in Grant’s life. She wanted to tell him her secret fears and desires, and hear his. She wanted to be by his side to help raise the twins.
But that dream was impossible. She wasn’t strong enough to be a wife or a mother. Maybe that’s why Grant no longer saw her as a viable partner. Maybe that’s why God hadn’t answered her prayer about Arlen—because she didn’t deserve those blessings.
She rose, hating to leave but she needed to get away and think about this.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening. You’ve come a long way from the dad who couldn’t relate to his twins, Grant.”
He rose to see her out. “Thanks, Dahlia.”
A longing to share the burgeoning feelings in her heart swelled. Impulse overcame wisdom and without thinking, she leaned forward, touching her lips to his. After a momentary hesitation, Grant responded, deepening the kiss as he wrapped his arms around her.
This was what she wanted, to be with Grant like this. She wanted to share his hopes and dreams, and his fears. To be there for him.
And yet, she couldn’t help it—doubts and worries flooded in. A moment later, as if Grant understood, he ended the embrace, his eyes searching hers as he stepped away.
“Thank you for coming,” he said as he led her to the door and held her coat. Then, he pulled her back into his arms. “Don’t you dare give up, Dahlia,” he whispered.
She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant but in the moment, she didn’t have the strength to ask. It was enough to relish the joy of being in Grant’s arms for the second time that night.
“Good night” was the best she could manage when she finally eased free of his embrace.
She drove home with her brain whirling with questions, her lips still tingling from that wonderful kiss.
Chapter Thirteen
On November 11th, after the Remembrance Day ceremony was finished, Grant walked into the garage and saw Dahlia dressed in shabby jeans, a red plaid shirt and boots that were clearly too big. He didn’t bother to stifle his laughter.
“Are you really laughing at me, Grant Adams?”
“Actually—yes.” He chuckled harder at the fierce frown she shot his way. “How much do you actually know about mechanics?” he asked, shedding his coat on a nearby box.
“Less than you, probably.” Dahlia’s indomitable smile appeared as she shrugged. “They’ve almost fixed this kart. Maybe we can try it on the track soon.”
She looked so cute with that streak of grease on the end of her nose, her fist clenched around a massive wrench. Grant couldn’t stop staring at her.
“I keep trying to tell her there’s no such thing as almost fixed.” Pete, the mechanic who was helping the boys repair the go-karts, winked at Grant. “You’d better take that away from her. She could do herself an injury.”
“You know me better than that, Pete.” Dahlia gave him a mock glare.
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“I know saying you can’t do something is like waving a red flag in front of a bull, Dahlia Wheatley. But the boys and I need peace and quiet, and you’re hovering.” Pete pretended a glare. “Why don’t you two go do something fun and leave us to work?”
“But I want to help,” she argued.
“You’ll be a bigger help if you leave us in peace,” he said. An amused rumble of agreement came from the three boys beside him.
“I will be back,” Dahlia assured him before she turned to Grant. “Want to go to the track? We could check that everything’s good to go.”
“I know very well that you did that yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that.” It was a token objection because Grant knew he was happy to do whatever she wanted. “Okay, we’ll go to the track if you want, but I’m not anxious to take the girls. There were two sightings of polar bears yesterday.”
“Arlen’s babysitting, isn’t he?” Grant nodded. “So we’ll take him along. You know you can trust him to keep an eye on the girls.”
Grant remembered Rick’s verse. God has not given us a spirit of fear.
“Hardly seems like rain, doesn’t it? But that’s what the weatherman predicts,” Dahlia said as they got in his truck and headed toward Grant’s.
“They’re never right,” Grant said, then wished he hadn’t in case he’d raised Dahlia’s hopes. He figured getting her project operational before winter hit wasn’t likely, though he’d never say that out loud. “The ugly weather has to come sooner or later.”
“Later is fine.” She pulled into his yard. “Usually I love winter, but putting out sleds for the kids and snow-blowers for their parents at the store just isn’t doing it for me this year.”
“Dahlia, can we talk about that kiss?” Grant blurted and held his breath when her lovely hazel eyes stretched wide.
“Uh, okay.” Her cheeks pinked when she glanced at him before quickly averting her face.
That was it? Grant shifted awkwardly, waiting, hoping she’d say something, anything more. She didn’t.
“Why did you kiss me, Dahlia?” he asked finally, frustrated by her continued silence.
“I probably shouldn’t have.” She kept staring straight ahead.
“So why did you?” He desperately wanted to know what that gesture of hers meant, especially if their embrace had meant as much to her as it had to him.
“I guess I wanted to show you I cared,” she mumbled.
“Cared?” He seized on the word. “Cared how?”
“You were hurting,” she said. “You’d just told me about your dad and I…”
“You felt sorry for me?” Grant almost groaned. He so did not want her pity.
“It was more than pity.” She did glance at him then. Her hazel eyes held a message that Grant couldn’t decipher before she demanded, “Why did you kiss me back?”
“I—uh—you were—” he stammered to a stop while his brain searched for an answer.
Oh, why had he ever started this? His brain was so jumbled, his emotions all over the place. On top of that, he didn’t want to say something without thinking it over carefully lest he later regret it. Most of all, he didn’t want to hurt Dahlia in any way.
Relief flooded him when Grace peeked out the front door and waved them inside.
“Maybe we should continue this later,” he suggested, seizing on the excuse.
“Sure,” Dahlia hurriedly agreed. “Anyway, I have to focus on finishing my project.”
She sounded like she was also glad for the reprieve that meant she didn’t have to answer. Suddenly Grant wished that the track was finished, the karts were operational and she was finally free of the worry that dogged her.
Let her get one kart around that track, Grant prayed as he opened his door. Just one. Please? When had Dahlia’s project become so important to him?
Since she’d taken over his world.
*
“It looks pretty good, don’t you think?” Dahlia snugged her collar around her ears, turning her back on the wind that raced across the land.
“It looks ready.” Grant smiled as the twins squealed in a game of tag with Arlen. “There’s nothing more to do. It’s waiting for a go-kart.”
“I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done. This wouldn’t have happened without you.” She felt so close to him. If only she could have told him what was in her heart when he asked about that kiss. “I wish—”
She heard a noise before the wind caught it and tossed it away. When she turned to look, Dahlia’s blood froze.
“Grant,” she hissed, grabbing his hand.
“I see it. So do the kids.” He raised his voice a notch. “Don’t move, guys.” They both watched as a polar bear waddled near Arlen and the twins. “Let’s move toward them very slowly.” Grant’s voice was hoarse.
They inched forward together. The closer they got, the more clearly Dahlia heard the twins’ whimpers. She could also hear the bear’s low-throated growl.
“No way,” Arlen repeated, fiercely trying to stay between the bear and the girls. “You’re not getting near them.”
But the hungry bear knew how to maneuver.
“Get out of here!” Arlen suddenly yelled, flailing his arms. The bear backed off only for a moment, then shifted closer to Glory.
“What do we do, Grant?” Dahlia breathed.
“Don’t make any sudden moves,” he said. “We don’t want to force it into defense mode. Ease up, Arlen,” he said a little louder. “Keep calm, girls. Daddy’s here.”
Daddy’s here. If Grant could only hear himself, he’d never doubt his abilities again.
Please help us, Lord. The repeated prayer left her lips over and over.
Grant moved cautiously but unerringly closer to the twins. He was steps away when the bear suddenly lunged. With lightning speed, Arlen stepped in front of Glory and swung his arm to swat away the bear’s paw. But the claws sunk into his arm.
Arlen screamed with pain while Grant and Dahlia raced toward him and the twins. She grabbed the twins’ hands and pulled them toward the truck. With the girls safely inside, she turned back to see what else she could do. Arlen was on the ground, clutching his injured arm. Grant stood in front of the snarling bear, yelling. He used a broken tree branch as a club, swinging it at the lunging bear.
“Daddy!” Glory’s whimper forced Dahlia into action.
She started the truck, threw it into gear and raced toward Grant while honking the horn. While the bear was distracted Grant scored a direct hit to the bear’s head and the animal backed off, but its eyes returned to Arlen, who was still on the ground.
Behind her, the twins whimpered. Dahlia hit the gas as Grant moved between Arlen and the bear. She pulled up and leaned over to thrust open the passenger door.
“Get in!” she yelled before hitting the horn again.
The bear stood fully upright, preparing to attack.
Dazed and bleeding, Arlen staggered to his feet. Grant thrust one arm around his shoulders and half dragged the boy to the truck. He boosted him inside and jumped in, too. As soon as the door closed, Dahlia backed away and took off.
Dahlia called the police, knowing that they would call the wildlife service. Then she called Laurel.
“There’s a bear inside the fence. Keep everyone indoors until you hear otherwise,” Dahlia told her friend what had happened. “We’re taking Arlen to the hospital.”
Laurel promised to meet them there. Dahlia hit the gas and raced to the emergency room.
“I think he’s in shock,” she explained to the attendants who hurried Arlen away as soon as they got him out of the car.
Grant shot her a questioning glance. She could see he needed to make certain Arlen was okay. She guessed he felt a bit of guilt because Arlen had been injured protecting his children.
“Go with him,” she urged, feeling queasy. “I’ll take care of the twins.”
Dahlia led the girls to the waiting room and spent some time reassuring them th
at Arlen would be okay. A few moments later, Laurel appeared.
“Arlen?” she asked breathlessly.
“Grant’s with him now.” Dahlia glanced at the twins. “Arlen was a hero today.” She shuddered at the thought of what could have happened.
“The area is fenced to stop this exact thing.” Laurel was visibly upset. “I’ll get Kyle to check the perimeter before anyone goes on the track again.”
“Let the wildlife people do that.” Dahlia realized she was still trembling.
“You two are okay?” Laurel asked the twins, who clutched one another, tear marks still on their cheeks. Glory and Grace nodded.
“Daddy and Arlen saved us,” Grace said, her voice shaky.
“That’s because they love you,” Laurel said, hugging them. “I’m going to check on Arlen now. Will you pray for him?”
As Laurel left, both girls bowed their heads About to join them, Dahlia found she couldn’t say a word. Grant had left his jacket on a nearby chair, and one sleeve was ripped. There was a large red stain around the tear.
Her heart squeezed so tight it hurt. Had the bear injured him, too? Had the doctors noticed? Were they treating him?
Oh, God, please, please don’t let Grant be hurt.
Because I love him.
*
“I’m very grateful for what you did, Arlen,” Grant said in a gruff tone, unable to hide his relief.
“Twenty-two stitches isn’t much,” the boy bragged, glancing at his bandaged arm.
Dahlia smiled, but Grant couldn’t. Not yet.
“You saved my kids’ lives. Thank you,” he said.
Arlen nodded and grabbed another slice of Polar Bear Pizza.
It had been Dahlia’s idea to come here once the doctor had released Arlen. Grant had agreed. They needed time to relax, let the fear die down in a place away from the tense atmosphere at the hospital before the twins tried to sleep. To reassure himself, he took a second glance at the pair. They sat silent, watching Arlen, their eyes wide with fear still clinging to the depths.