With the Father

by Jenni Moen

  When it came to Arden, though, I was no angel. “I never got a chance to give you your birthday present.” I held the box out to her and she took it reluctantly. I waited as she slowly untied the ribbon and pulled off the lid. She pulled out the small piece of paper resting on top and carefully unfolded it. As she took in the naked picture of herself, I looked away but not before I watched her eyes nearly explode from her head. I stifled the urge to laugh when she shoved it back into the box without bothering to fold it.

  “There’s more, Hope.”

  Panicked eyes met my glare before returning to the box. She dug through it with shaky hands and finally pulled out the black glossy phone. The phone that had answered almost all of my questions. What it hadn’t, Paul and I had figured out on our own. We spent a lot of time together during the past few months. Time trying to figure out the Hope mystery. Time with Isabelle. Time getting to know one another.

  I returned my gaze to the kids, refusing to look at her any more. “I want you to have it. There’s a lot of good memories on there, but know this. I have a good memory as well, and I’ve made a copy of everything on it.”

  In the periphery of my vision, I saw her nod.

  I stood, ready to leave the park and her presence. “It would be a shame if Jackson found out the truth about his mother and father, wouldn’t it? It would be a real shame if Coleman did. I bet he’d be interested in knowing the truth about his son.” I paused to let my threat sink in and then I made another one. “In fact, there are a few things on that phone that I think the police might be interested in too.” The latter were empty threats, but she didn’t need to know that.

  As much I’d like to see her pay for her sins against my sister, there wasn’t much I could do. We suspected that Arden, and possibly Jonathan, had tried to murder her, but we didn’t have any real proof. As much as I wished they were, the texts weren’t enough. Unless we found the man who had mugged my sister in the parking lot, there was little chance that we could pin Arden with the charge of attempted murder that she deserved.

  But the lack of proof wasn’t the only reason I wasn’t taking this to the police. The bigger reason was that I’d known my sister inside and out. No one had a bigger heart than she did, and she wouldn’t have wanted me to do anything that could hurt Jackson.

  Would she have been upset to find out that her best friend and husband had betrayed her? Of course. Would she be angry? Undoubtedly. But when the smoke finally cleared, she wouldn’t have wanted Jackson to get hurt in the crossfire. He wasn’t her child, but he was Jonathan’s. And she’d loved him, too. He had been a part of her life since the day he was born.

  Jackson still had a father who loved him and that’s the way Grace would want it. Coleman was a good man and he loved his son. As someone who’d lost my parents at a young age, I would never wish that on another child. I knew as well as anyone that families come in all shapes and sizes.

  The irony of our unique situation wasn’t lost on me. I’d been raised by my aunt and uncle, and now I was raising my niece. Being a great parent was about more than just blood. I’d learned from the best how to step in and raise a child that wasn’t yours to feel as if they were. Isabelle was mine now, and I would make my sister proud.

  Arden would never know any of this. She’d never know that my threats were as empty as Jonathan’s promises. However, if she spent the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, that was fine by me.

  I didn’t look back at her, walking instead to the edge of the playground. “Come on Isabelle. Paul’s waiting for us.”

  She ran over and grabbed my hand. “What are we doing tonight, Aunt Kate?” she asked.

  I tugged her ponytail. “He’s making us dinner. Remember, silly?” I turned toward the car to find the subject of our discussion leaning against the hood of my car. His arms were crossed and a ball cap sat low on his head. “Look, there he is,” I whispered. The sight of him made my heart do a little dance in my chest. My feet picked up the pace, wanting to get to him a little faster.

  She tugged on my hand. “Are you going to kiss him again?” she teased.

  I laughed. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw him kiss you in the kitchen yesterday.”

  “Oh, you saw that, did you?” I could feel my cheeks heating up.

  “I’m just so glad that you’re not kissing Maddox, any more! Yuck!” Isabelle said with a scrunched up nose. “Paul is so much better.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more. Cutting ties with Maddox had been easy after I’d discovered that he’d known all along about Jonathan and Arden and Jackson. However, cutting ties with him had been inevitable anyway. Though I’d tried to distract myself with him, he’d never really been any competition for Paul. From the moment I’d met Paul, I had known that no one else would ever compare.

  Kissing Paul was a new development. He’d left the church the week after Grace’s funeral, and it had taken him a while to adjust to his new life. Though I’d been attracted to him from the beginning, our relationship had grown slowly over time. It had been a while before I could believe that I wasn’t just a fill-in for the woman who’d unknowingly changed his life. He’d never actually admitted it, but I knew how he’d felt about her.

  He had loved her first, and I was okay with that. Grace had been the most lovable person I knew. Knowing that someone had loved her, even if from afar, the way she had deserved to be loved made me happy. And, oddly, his love for her made me feel an immediate closeness to him.

  He’d never know what would have happened if he’d had a chance with her, but Paul wasn’t one to dwell on what could have been. I was pretty certain that she would have loved him if she’d been given the chance. I didn’t see how she couldn’t. As far as I was concerned, he was the most magnificent person I’d ever met.

  However, I was fairly certain that she would have loved him differently than I did. She would have loved him quietly, reverently, and sweetly. I loved him in my own way – boldly, with humor, and uninhibited affection. I could accept his love in return because I knew that he felt that, too. He saw our differences and never compared us.

  Grace and I were very different people. That was true. However, during the process of getting to know Paul and Isabelle, I’d also gotten to know myself a little better, too, and I had discovered that in some ways we were just as similar as we were different.

  Because Grace and I weren’t true sisters, I’d always denied any likeness between us. I’d tried to put as much space between us as possible. She was quiet, so I was loud. She was good, so I was not. She loved easily, so I fought against it. But through the loss of her, I discovered that we had more in common than I had allowed myself to admit.

  Thanks to Isabelle, I’d discovered that I was more maternal than I would have ever guessed. I would never hope or try to replace Grace, but I would take care of Isabelle as if she were my own. I would make Grace proud.

  Thanks to Karen’s Kitchen, I’d learned that I received far more from helping people than they took from me. I finally understood why my mother and sister had loved it like they had, and I was happy spending my evenings there. With Paul.

  Thanks to Paul, I was learning that some people will fight their way into your heart whether you think you want it, whether you think you need it, whether you think you are ready for it. He saw things in me that I’d never seen before. Good things. Wonderful things. Lovable things.

  I had the highest hopes for our new relationship. Because, of everything I’d learned about myself during the past few months, the most important thing was that I was capable of loving someone else more than myself. Every day, I fell a little harder for him, and in the process, fell in love with a new, quieter, more genuine version of myself.

  Yes, kissing Paul was a very welcome development indeed, and I was okay with my niece, and anyone else, knowing about it.

  I approached my Delectable Deacon, still leaning against my car, watching us expectantly. “Hey,” I said, wrapping my arms a
round his waist. “What are you doing here?” The familiar smell of fabric softener mixed with whatever it was that smelled uniquely of Paul washed over me.

  “Hey to you, too,” he said, pulling me in a little closer. “What about Isabelle?” The warm breath that accompanied his whispered words caused my stomach to flip and chills to race down my spine.

  “She knows,” I said, nodding to my niece who was now skipping circles around the closest tree with Aurora hot on her heels.

  “Kate and Paul sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” she sang. “First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes a baby in a baby carriage.”

  “Don’t mind if I do then,” he said as his mouth found mine.

  Every kiss with Paul was unlike any kiss before it. Standing in the park, with my niece flitting nearby, I wanted him like I’d never wanted any man before him. I couldn’t even compare it to anything that had ever preceded it because it stood on its own, in a class all unto itself. I was sure that if he opened his eyes, he would actually be able to see and touch the adoration and hope emanating from me.

  I’d spend every day of the rest of my life in this town if it meant spending it with the two of them.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  I’m one of those people that likes to ponder the what ifs in life. I make decisions every day, and each one of them has some effect on my life. Some big. Some small.

  The day I left my daughter at school against her will after her Valentine’s party may have ended up saving her life since I totaled my car on the way home.

  The day my husband decided to forego an Ivy League education in favor of the state university was one of the happiest days of my life. I didn’t know it at the time since I wouldn’t meet him for another two years.

  Though the events of With the Father are not based on actual events, they were inspired by them, and at times Grace’s story was difficult for me to write. Of course, you know now that Kate’s story was very different from Grace’s. I believe that if you were to go back and reread just her chapters you would see them in a different light now that you know the truth about Grace.

  If you want to talk about the book with me and other readers in a spoiler-friendly environment (or curse at me), please join me in the After the Father Facebook group. Lovers and haters of With the Father are equally welcome as long as everyone gets along.

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/1566880493532431/

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The first round of thanks goes to Jeff, Ethan, Dylan, and Ella. You guys are the best cheering section a wife/mom/author could ask for and I am so very lucky to have you.

  Thank you to Elizabeth Ward who drank many cups of coffee with me while we worked our way in and out of plot holes. If it weren’t for your filter, there would be terrible lines like, “I want you to rearrange my cans,” at the most inopportune moments.

  A special thank you to my beta readers: Lauren Battles, Kate Good, Chelsea Keller, Emily Bynum, J.B. Avants, Mary Kate Wilson, Andrea Thompson, Aileen Jones, and Tawnya Pendleton. Thank you for helping me tweak it to make it as perfect as possible. J.B., Chelsea, and Mary Kate, an additional thank you for your eagle eyes.

  Thank you to my editors: Autumn Hull and Tiffany Halliday.

  Thank you to all of my author friends in Author Support 101. You enlighten me and educate me every single day.

  Thank you to everyone who signed up for the cover reveal and the book release blitz and/or accepted an ARC edition of this book, not knowing what they were getting into.

  Thank you to every book blogger that has promoted any one of my books. Without you, no one would have ever heard of my books. I couldn’t do this without you.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jenni Moen lives in her hometown with her husband and three crazy, exuberant kids that have the potential to burn the house down at any time.

  When she’s not chauffeuring kids, performing her mom duties as a short order cook, or vacuuming for her fastidious husband, she hammers away at her keyboard at her big girl job as a patent attorney. While vodka and exercise have provided some relief from the daily grind, it is reading . . . and now writing . . . that are her true escapes.

  OTHER WORKS BY JENNI MOEN

  Remembering Joy ( Joy #1)

  Alexis doesn’t believe in fairytales.

  She knows first hand that life can turn on a dime – that

  one stupid mistake can shatter dreams

  and irrevocably shape the future.

  Though her memory of that day is hazy,

  She’s spent the last ten years

  trying to put it behind her and

  focus on the future.

  Adam is dark and brooding

  and strangely charming. The film student

  is the perfect distraction from the

  mundane life she’s created for herself.

  Unfortunately, Adam’s memory isn’t hazy at all …

  And what she doesn’t remember, he can’t forget.

  Finding Joy ( Joy #2)

  Love is patient.

  It can happen when you least expect it,

  where you least expect it,

  with whom you least expect it.

  Love is kind.

  But love may not grow out of kindness.

  It can happen with the person who hates you most

  because love knows no bounds.

  And it keeps no record of wrongs.

  Love doesn’t hold a grudge.

  Love forgives.

  Love forgets.

  But when the healing of your heart

  breaks the hearts of the ones you love,

  it may seem impossible to …

  Find Joy