Ellen Tanner Marsh - For His Son's Sake

His fingers had closed over hers and the heat rushed to Kenzie’s cheeks because of the way he was looking at her—as though so much depended on her answer.

“I mean that deep down you do know the right things to do for Angus. It’s supereasy when you…um…you love somebody.”

For some inexplicable reason that word—love—stuck in her throat. She’d never minded uttering it before. The heated color in her cheeks deepened and she snatched her hand away before Ross noticed. What in heaven’s name was wrong with her?

“Kenzie?” Angus was peering around the door at her. Those blue eyes, that cute grin, made her feel instantly in control again.

“What is it, sport?”

“Would you hurry up, please? I can hear those pastries calling me from your kitchen.”

Lost in thought, she followed him across the yard. Something was definitely not right between Ross Calder and his son. They seemed uncomfortable with each other, as though they weren’t used to—or even liked—being together. And Ross was so uptight around Angus that the tension was almost a physical thing humming through him. And as for that oddly vulnerable moment they’d just shared…surely that had been an unspoken plea for help?

Kenzie tried to ignore the painful squeezing of her heart. She knew all about bad relationships between parents and their offspring—she and her father hadn’t spoken for more than a year. In fact, the last thing he’d said to her was that he didn’t consider her his daughter anymore.

But Angus was only seven. How could you get on bad footing with a kid that age?

And where did Mrs. Calder fit into this?

Unless Ross and his wife were divorced? Or in the process of divorcing? That would explain her absence and the awkwardness Ross exhibited around his son. Maybe Angus resented him for the breakup, and this trip to the Outer Banks was Ross’s way of trying to make up for it.

A weekend father. Kenzie knew the type: caught up in their careers, they took no part in raising their own kids and in fact were little better than strangers to them. Then the marriage ended and they found themselves on the outside of the fence, trying desperately to squeeze a loving relationship into those brief, alternate weekend visitations.

Which didn’t always work.

Poor Ross! And poor Angus!

She opened the back door for the boy, resisting the urge to ruffle his dark curls. Her heart ached, imagining how he felt, knowing how hard it was to mend a damaged relationship. Sometimes impossible.

“The doughnuts are on the table. Help yourself. I’ll pour you a glass of milk.”

Ross came in through the screen door behind her. He nearly filled the small kitchen, reminding Kenzie that he was more the rugged male type than the vulnerable man of a moment ago. “Coffee?” she asked quickly.

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“No. I’ve already ground the beans.”

Ross looked around the room while she fetched cream and sugar and arranged the pastries on a plate. An old farmhouse sink, a few lopsided cabinets painted white, a laminated countertop straight out of the 1940s. Nothing like the sleek Corian-and-stainless-steel condo kitchen he once owned in New York before leaving his old law firm at the beginning of the year, when the battle over Angus had started heating up overseas.

Clearly whatever Kenzie Daniels did for a living didn’t pay much. Granted, you didn’t need a lot to live like this.

By now Angus had made himself at home at the oak table. The boy’s short legs dangled from one of the mismatched chairs as he munched on a buttermilk doughnut and looked around him with the bright interest of a typical seven-year-old. Again he seemed not at all shy in his surroundings.

“This place reminds me of Norfolk,” he announced.

“Your grandfather’s place?” Kenzie asked, much to Ross’s surprise. What did she know about Angus’s family?

“Yeah. Everything’s old there, too.” He talked around a mouthful of doughnut. “I like it.”

“Did you spend a lot of time in Norfolk?”

Angus hesitated a moment, then said with a shrug, “Summer holidays and Christmas, too.”

Kenzie set a mug of coffee in front of where Ross was standing. “Why is it that Angus has a British accent and you don’t?”

“I’m American, he’s not.”

“Oh. Then Angus’s mother—”

“My wife…my ex-wife is…was English.”

Kenzie caught her breath. Was?

“She passed away earlier this year.”

The shock of those words jolted her. She glanced quickly at Angus, who sat with his eyes glued to his plate. “Oh, Angus, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” But he wouldn’t look at her and she saw his little Adam’s apple bob convulsively as he swallowed. Her heart contracted and she glanced at Ross, who was studying his son with the same pained intensity.

“Maybe we’d better go, Angus,” Ross said quietly.

“But I haven’t drunk my milk yet!”

“And you haven’t had your bear claw,” Kenzie added meaningfully to Ross.

“What’s a bear claw?” Angus asked, immediately intrigued.

“It’s like a turnover, with almonds in it.”

Angus scrunched up his freckled nose. “I’d rather have another doughnut. Please?” he added, smiling shyly.

The awkward moment was over. Kenzie handed him the plate. “Eat all you like, sport.”

Ross sat down at the table, the tension draining out of him. This had been the first time Penelope’s death had been mentioned to a stranger, and Angus had handled it much better than he’d thought. So had Kenzie, by knowing better than to ask more questions the way other people probably would have.

“If I had your birds I’d try to make pets out of them,” Angus said to Kenzie, a milk mustache painted above his lip.

Grinning, she tossed him a napkin. “So you wouldn’t mind pelican poop all over your room?”

“Yuck. I hadn’t thought of that.” Balancing his empty glass on his plate, he set both next to the sink. “I think I’d rather have a dog. They go outside when they need to use the bathroom and…hey, Kenzie! What are all these drawings?”

Through the opened door leading from the pantry, he had caught sight of her workroom and quickly went in.

“Angus, don’t poke—” Ross warned.

“No, it’s okay. Look at them, if you like.” She rose to pour more coffee into Ross’s mug. “How about another bear claw?”

“They’re hard to resist,” he answered with a smile.

“Tell me about it. I’ll have to run an extra mile this afternoon.”

Ross had already decided that she was a runner—a serious one from the look of her. He realized he liked that about her, because he was one, too. “How often do you run?”

“Every day, if I can.”

“On the beach?”

“Not always. The sand is too soft. I prefer the trails near the lighthouse.” Kenzie thought about asking him to join her, suspecting he was a runner, like her, then instantly squelched the idea. Much as she liked having company on her jogs, she didn’t think he would agree. Besides, who would look after Angus in the meantime?

She stole another glance at Ross to find him looking at the water outside the window. His face was a dark contrast to the brightness outside, and she couldn’t help admiring his profile; his straight nose, his lean cheeks, especially the sensual curve of his mouth. Quickly she dropped her gaze. Why on earth was she studying Ross Calder’s mouth?

Angus’s head appeared around the door. “Hey, Kenzie, are these cartoons?”

She looked up, relieved. “Yes.”

“How come they don’t make any sense?”

She laughed. “Because they’re for grown-ups. They’re supposed to make grown-ups think about things that have happened around the country recently. They’re political cartoons,” she explained, catching Ross’s eye.