The Single Dad's Redemption (Aspen Creek Crossroads Book 3)

by Roxanne Rustand

  Surely not, since she was thirty-one and independent...though if they considered her a bad risk, would she ever know the true reasons for a denial?

  A few minutes later the door by the receptionist’s desk opened. Keeley stood, turned, and there stood Sam Grover with a junior associate she didn’t recognize. “Hello, gentlemen.”

  The younger man’s eyes flared open wide as he glanced between her and Grover, and then he mumbled an excuse and hurried down the hall.

  “I came in to see about moving up my refinancing appointment with you, and couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” she said. “I’m so glad to hear that my inspection went well. I’ve been working really hard to make sure everything measured up.”

  “Um, yes, yes, it did.” Grover cleared his throat, a ruddy blush crawling upward above his collar. “The secretary must be around here somewhere—she can help you with your appointment.”

  “I also couldn’t help but hear my dad come up in your conversation.”

  Clearly embarrassed by his careless verbal exchange within hearing, the man averted his gaze.

  “You do understand that the building is in my name alone, right? I do know my father may be difficult to deal with at times, and that he recently ran into financial problems due to his dementia. But he owns no part of my building and will not ever be a part of the financial arrangements for my business in any way. So any past dealings with him will not impact my loan, right?”

  The man’s lips thinned. “No, of course not.”

  She gave him a warm smile. “That’s wonderful news. Because otherwise, I’ll be wanting an appointment with the bank president to discuss this further.”

  * * *

  At five o’clock Keeley changed into her favorite ivory cashmere sweater and black linen slacks, freshened her makeup and fluffed her hair.

  Anticipation for the evening ahead hummed through her veins as she donned a pair of pearl earrings and studied herself in the bathroom mirror.

  Not too dressy, not too casual, so she’d fit right in with whatever Connor wore and wherever he wanted to go for a Friday-night dinner that would be both a celebration and a farewell. This would be the last time she might see him in...

  Maybe forever.

  At that sobering thought she felt her heart clench as she spritzed her favorite Burberry perfume on her wrists and then grabbed her purse and headed for the front of the store.

  He was standing just inside the entryway, his Resistol hat in his hand and his mouth set in a grim line.

  A faint smile touched his lips but didn’t reach his eyes. “You look beautiful, Keeley. You flat-out take my breath away.”

  She took in his softly worn jeans and black oxford shirt with the cuffs folded back above his wrists and managed an answering grin despite her escalating trepidation. Something was wrong.

  He strode up to her, his intent gaze locked on hers, and tossed his hat on the front counter before taking her into his arms with a low groan. “I’ve looked forward to this evening for days. Days.”

  She leaned back to search his face. “Me, too. So what’s wrong?”

  He released her, stepped back. “It’s my dad. I got a call from my brothers an hour ago. He’s been taken to a hospital by ambulance and the docs think it’s a heart attack.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she breathed, taking in the ravaged look in his eyes. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “They don’t know yet.” He dragged a palm down his face. “Red finished the truck this afternoon and I was already packed for tomorrow, but I can’t wait until then. It’s a fifteen-hour drive, and if I leave now I can get there by midmorning tomorrow.”

  She pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “You’ll drive all night? Is that even safe?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve got a twelve-pack of Coke on the front seat of my truck. With the radio blasting and the windows open, I should be fine.”

  He glanced toward the door and she knew he was on the verge of bolting for his truck. “I—I know you must really want to see him, after all your time away.”

  “There’s too much unfinished business between us—too much that’s been left unsaid. If I can just get home in time...” His voice trailed off as he closed his eyes briefly.

  She reached up and laid a hand gently against his cheek. “I will be praying you have safe travels. And that your dad will be well, too.”

  There was so much more she wanted to say to him. About how much she cared. How much she wanted him to come back to her. How much...she’d come to love him.

  But he was radiating tension and worry, and this wasn’t the time or place. “Godspeed, Connor. Be safe.”

  He pulled his truck keys from his front jeans’ pocket, started for the door, then spun around and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered against her hair. “So doggone much.”

  And then he was gone.

  Shell-shocked, Keeley stumbled up the stairs to her apartment and flopped on her bed to stare at the ceiling.

  She’d known Connor was just passing through from the very beginning. She’d known that it would be pointless to let herself care.

  And yet every passing day had shown her new and wonderful things about him. His kindness and patience toward her dad, and to Bobby. His honor, his work ethic and simple honesty. His gentleness.

  And then there was the way her traitorous heart had chugged into overdrive whenever he’d walked into a room.

  She’d sensed that he’d felt the same toward her, yet now he was driving away after a kiss and barely a goodbye.

  She understood his reasons. After years of estrangement from his family, he couldn’t risk arriving too late to see his father still alive.

  But had he meant what he said—was he ever really coming back?

  Numb, she tried to read, but stared at the pages blindly. She started to clean and then tossed the dust cloth aside.

  She was on her third consolation bar of milk chocolate with hazelnuts and raisins when she heard the sound of crying and someone beating on the door downstairs. She ran down the steps and peered through the peephole, then flung the door wide open.

  Bobby flew in and wrapped his arms around her.

  “I—I th-think he killed her,” he wailed, tears streaming down his face. “He came home and he was drunk and she told him to l-leave. And he hit her w-with the lamp. I saw.”

  Her heart thudding, Keeley stepped out of his embrace and grasped both of his shoulders. Shaking like an aspen leaf, he buckled to the floor. “Bobby. Did you call 9-1-1?”

  He cried even harder. “There was blood everywhere and I r-ran. He was yelling at me to come b-back. B-but he was gonna hit me, t-too.”

  She grabbed the cell phone from her pocket and called 9-1-1.

  After locking the dead bolts on the front and back doors and pulling down the shades, she sank to the floor next to him, set her phone aside and pulled him into her arms.

  “The EMTs and the sheriff are on their way, honey. They’ll take care of your auntie and they’ll stop Rafe from ever doing anything bad again. I promise.”

  He cried even harder, his sobs coming in great waves, and she wondered about the demons this might have unearthed from the earlier tragedy in his life when his parents died. This was so terribly, horribly, unfair.

  “It’ll be okay, honey. I told them you’re safe with me, and that you can stay the night here. I have your new room ready, so you can pretend you’re camping at my house. Okay?”

  She rubbed his back gently until his racking sobs slowed. “Let’s go upstairs and have some hot chocolate, okay? I even have marshmallows. We can say some prayers for your aunt, and then you can tell me if you’d like to watch a movie or play some board games.”

  After two rounds of Chutes and Ladders and a card game of
Old Maid, Bobby had settled down, clearly exhausted. She showed him the bathroom then got him settled into bed.

  But still there’d been no word from anyone about Bess. What was going on? Or would no one think to call her? She wasn’t family, so maybe not.

  She’d just stepped out into the hallway to grab another cup of cocoa for herself when she heard a sound downstairs.

  A crash.

  The squeaky hinges on the front door and the soft jangle of the bells.

  Then heavy footsteps started crossing the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Connor gripped the steering wheel, his gaze pinned on the road ahead.

  No one had called him a second time to let him know about his father’s tests in the ER or his prognosis—or if he was still alive. But there was no question that Connor had to get home.

  Connor had been praying ever since that first call. Please, Lord, let me get there in time... He and I have so much to say...so much unfinished business. I need to get there.

  He could make the trip straight through in fifteen hours, according to the map function in his phone. But if he got a call about Dad being critical, he’d head for the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport, park the truck and take the first plane possible.

  Connor tried calling Chris’s cell phone and then Dan’s. No answer. He tried again and again...

  Then, finally, Dan picked up, his voice hushed. “Hey, man. You got the message?”

  Connor swiftly pulled to a stop on the shoulder and turned on his emergency blinkers. “What’s going on? How is Dad?”

  Dan blew out a deep breath. “We’ve been in the ER for several hours now. Dad had severe heart pain, so we called the ambulance. They’ve been doing a lot of tests. Honestly, it has been a terrible afternoon. Dad was sort of out of it for a while and not making sense, and he kept calling for you. Kept saying he was sorry, and he didn’t plan to die without making amends.”

  Connor’s own heart felt as if it was lodged in his throat. “Any results? What do the doctors say?”

  “Angina. Not a heart attack. They’ve got him resting comfortably right now. They plan to do more tests and keep him overnight, but he’ll probably go home tomorrow.”

  Connor sagged against the seatback of his truck. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” Dan chuckled softly. “His doc told him that he was good for another thirty years, because he was too mean to die. Dad took it as a compliment. Hey—they’re just now wheeling him back in from an MRI and we’re not supposed to use cell phones in here. I’ll call back in an hour or so. And, hey, bro—we’re all real glad you’re coming home. But don’t push it and have a wreck. It’s no longer an emergency to get here. Okay?”

  The phone connection went dead.

  Connor rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion washing through him. Thank You. Thank You, Lord.

  Darkness had fallen. He could continue driving throughout the night as he’d planned. The sooner he got to Texas, the better.

  He had no other viable choice for establishing himself as quickly.

  Otherwise his precarious hold on a future with Joshua could go up in smoke. On the twenty-thousand-acre Rafferty ranch in Texas, he would again be a part of a successful family business; his history would be a nonissue. By slipping back into the fabric of the family ranch it would be easy to prove to the court that he had a solid means of providing for his son again.

  But even as he repeated that litany of reasons over and over to himself, an image of Keeley flashed into his thoughts as he continued down the highway. The temptation to turn around grew stronger, even though he knew that he had no future there.

  He’d heard the whispers back in Aspen Creek. Knew that his past would always weigh heavily if he applied for jobs. Whether he’d been exonerated or not, there would always be the suspicions. The wary looks.

  He kept driving south, but now the gnawing pain in his gut and an insistent voice in his head said otherwise. How could he leave Keeley behind? Was this really the right thing to do?

  She’d welcomed him into her life. Given him a job.

  Thanks to her, he’d experienced the normalcy that he’d lacked for years, giving him a chance for a fresh start. She’d trusted him, made him feel whole.

  Still, there was no way he could support himself and his son in that little tourist town. And he knew she couldn’t join him in Texas. Her connections in Wisconsin went as deep as the roots of the massive old oak by her store.

  He drove on and on and on, his thoughts warring and his resolve weakening.

  Until he finally drove onto a side road, parked and gave himself up to a heartfelt prayer.

  I know I quit on You for a long time...and I’m sorry for that. But now I need Your help, because I have no idea which way I should go and what I should do. I can’t risk losing my son, and I just can’t lose Keeley. Please, Lord...tell me what to do.

  * * *

  Her heart in her throat, Keeley picked up the landline phone in the kitchen. No dial tone. She hung up and tried again. Tapped the zero for Operator and jiggled the phone line connection.

  Dead.

  Where was her cell phone? With growing horror she remembered calling 9-1-1...then setting it on the floor when she’d comforted Bobby. It was downstairs. There was no way to call for help.

  And now they were trapped.

  She could hear the footsteps grow louder as an intruder roamed through the main floor. Knocking things over. Throwing merchandise against the walls. Was he looking for something valuable to take? Could this be the guy who had been stealing from the stores in town?

  He started jiggling doorknobs. Jerking doors open and slamming them shut. Searching. Then he uttered a string of curses and she knew this wasn’t just some petty thief.

  This was Rafe. He was drunk.

  And he blamed her for contacting the sheriff’s office when he’d hurt Bess. He also might be coming after Bobby.

  When he found the right door, he could splinter it with one slam of his burly shoulder and come barging up the stairs.

  Was he crazy enough to harm Bobby and her?

  There would be no one to save them. No one who would even notice something was wrong until someone thought it curious that the store didn’t open tomorrow.

  She swallowed hard. Then went to Bobby’s bedroom door and rapped lightly before walking in to shake his shoulder.

  He sat up with a start, his eyes wide with fear. Then he focused on her face and relaxed. “I forgot where I was.”

  “You’re here with me, Bobby,” she said in a whisper. “But you need to do me a big favor and come with me right now. Don’t say a single word, okay? Just come with me right now.”

  He grabbed her arm. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  She forced herself to stay calm. “I think Rafe is downstairs and I want to get you out of here. Understand? We’re going to the balcony off the kitchen. The fire escape needs another part, so we can’t use it yet. But there’s a rope ladder we can drop that nearly touches the ground, and when you get down I want you to run fast as you can to the sheriff’s office. Do you know where that is?”

  He gave a single nod and swallowed hard, his face pale. “By the store with the canoes and bikes.”

  “That’s right. Someone is there 24/7. Tell them Rafe is here and there’s trouble.”

  The door at the bottom of the stairs crashed open and footsteps started up. Slowly, as if Rafe were too inebriated to manage the climb.

  Please, God, stop him. Slow him down—anything.

  She grabbed Bobby’s hand and dragged him through the living room and kitchen, quietly opened the French door to the balcony and tossed the rope ladder over the side.

  “Now go. Hurry!”

  “I can’t leave without yo
u,” he cried, staring nervously at the ground far below. “You go first.”

  “I won’t go until you do, in case I have to hold Rafe back. Now hurry. Please.”

  Bobby finally registered the need for urgency and awkwardly climbed over the balcony railing. He gripped the top of the rope ladder and floundered until his feet found the first rung.

  He froze, his face a mask of terror.

  “Go, Bobby!”

  He slowly descended, his eyes closed, each rung a painstaking effort. The rope ladder creaked and twisted under his weight.

  “Good boy,” she whispered.

  She turned away for one last look toward the stairway door—

  Rafe’s twisted, malevolent face loomed over her, his breath laced with stale beer. “That boy ruined my life, and you let him get away,” he snarled.

  With an enraged bellow he swung his fist. The pain in her head exploded in a shower of blinding sparks. She reeled backward against the door frame and slid to the floor.

  Through half-closed eyes she saw him smirk with satisfaction. Then he turned toward the stairway to the first floor. Her stomach lurched at the thought of dear old Bess. Was Bobby right about Bess or had the EMTs arrived in time? Please, Lord, help Bess...and Bobby...

  She heard more sounds downstairs—footsteps running through the store. “Keeley! Are you all right? Where are you?”

  Connor.

  Rafe heard him, too, because he halted abruptly on his way to the stairs, then pivoted and looked wildly around the room. He lurched toward the French door to the balcony and disappeared into the darkness.

  “Not safe—” she shouted.

  But a second later she heard the sound of splintering wood. The screech of twisting, rusted iron giving way. A scream.

  And then a heavy thud.

  * * *

  “Are you sure Bess will be all right?”

  The ER nurse smiled at Keeley and patted her arm. “I’m very sure. She has some bumps and bruises, and needed a few stitches. But she’s a remarkably resilient woman. Her husband wasn’t quite so lucky with that fire escape. He’ll be in traction for months.”