Stephanie Dees - The Dad Next Door

Amelia butted in. “Come to dinner, Claire. Stay in the guest room. I heard Gram say she wanted you to.”

Claire hesitated but finally nodded her head. “If I can keep Amelia to help me get the animals fed and settled, I can meet you there for dinner.”

“Done. I’ll see y’all there shortly.” Joe strode toward the barn and his truck, turning back for a second to look at the ramshackle place he’d just agreed to live in. It was either the best decision he’d ever made or the worst, but either way, they would be moving back to Florida when his arm and hand were fully rehabbed. He’d prayed for something to break the ice with Amelia, and at least they’d be working on it together.

First thing on his list was a mousetrap. Or a cat. He called back to Claire. “Hey, how long is it gonna take that cat to grow up and catch mice?”

She laughed. “Sorry, my friend. Longer than you’ve got. Maybe Mama Kitty will help you out.”

Joe shook his head, stomping the mud off his feet. He slid into the driver’s seat of his truck. “Bye, Amelia. See you at dinner.”

His daughter lifted her head from nuzzling the kitten and waved. Would wonders never cease?

He wasn’t naive enough to believe this was the end of the reign of silence with his daughter, but he was so thankful for the reprieve.

* * *

After dinner with Joe’s family, Claire sat on the front porch, rocking the swing gently with her foot. She was sure there was something she should be doing, but right now it felt so good just to stop. Stop moving, stop thinking, stop planning. Just breathe.

There were a few random sounds, a trash can lid clanking, a bell on a kid’s bicycle, but mostly it was just peaceful. The back door creaked open. Joe stepped onto the porch and held out his hand. Four chocolates sparkled in their multicolored wrappers. “Ah, you do know the secrets of womankind, Joe Sheehan.”

“Two sisters.” He sat down in the swing beside her, his body weight setting it off kilter. “No secrets, just being observant like a good cop would.”

Claire looked into those mesmerizing blue eyes. “You know you’re taking on quite a challenge with that cottage. All joking aside, I’m not sure the thing would hold up against a strong wind.”

He took a swig of his coffee and leaned back, stretching his arm the length of the seat back. “I know. But then there’s Amelia.”

Claire laughed softly. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. My sister is moving here next month with four of her own horses so that we can do therapy with the kids. I can’t afford five horses. But my sister needs me. Then there’s someone else’s kid who just might be unlocked by time on horseback. And you see how this goes.”

“I do, actually. A month ago, maybe not, but now...I’m starting to.”

“The idea is to give them structure through a schedule, belonging through their contribution, unconditional love from the animals and the people. It doesn’t always work. But sometimes it does.”

“Having unconditional love worked for me.” His voice deepened, roughened with emotion. “If Frank and Bertie hadn’t taken me in, no telling where I would’ve ended up. My mother...well, my mother was like Amelia’s, maybe worse.”

She glanced at him with sympathy. “Which makes it even harder for you to forgive yourself because you know what Amelia’s had to deal with. Do you know where your mother is now?”

“No.”

The answer was short. She got the point. He didn’t want to talk about his mother. “Do your sisters and brother live in Red Hill Springs?”

“Ash does. He’s the local pediatrician. You might’ve seen his office on Main Street. My sister Jules owns the bakery next door to the Hilltop. She lives just outside of town.”

“Wait. So, your brother’s name is Ashley and your sister’s name is Jules?”

“Yep, Juliet. And my other sister’s name is Edwynna. She goes by Wynn. Mom was all about leveling the playing field, giving all the kids gender-neutral names so that, for example, if they were putting a résumé in somewhere, no one would know if it were a man or a woman. Her name is Alberta, but she’s always gone by Bertie.”

“So you were the only one with an identifiably masculine name.”

“That’s true, but since my brother, Ashley, insisted on calling me Josephine, it didn’t help that much.”

A laugh burst out as his words sank in. “And where’s Wynn now?”

“Wynn graduated from law school, passed the Bar and has been working for Congressman Schofield in Washington, DC, for the last two years.”

“She sounds like a classic underachiever.”

Joe laughed again. “You got that right. I don’t think she’s been home in three years.”

The lump that formed in her throat surprised her. “If I had a home to go to, especially this one, I’m not sure I’d be able to stay away.” He glanced at her sharply, and quickly she covered. “I mean, the food alone would bring me back. Your mom’s a genius.”

She and Jordan had each other, but since Mom died, they didn’t have a family. No place they belonged simply because they existed. That was part of what she hoped to create here. Roots. She wanted to sink them deep into the rich soil of Red Hill Farm—for the kids who came through here, yes, but also for herself. She needed them.

Joe eased back in the swing, his hard jawline softening as he spoke. “I’ve gained weight just in the few weeks I’ve been back here. Food is Bertie’s way of saying she cares about you. When I first came to live here as a kid, she left a plate of cookies by my bed every night. Maybe I should try that with Amelia.”

Claire filed that away in her mind: nothing said love like a plate of warm cookies. A big black Lab ran under the streetlight and into an adjoining yard as its owner slammed open a door and yelled its name. It seemed such a friendly thing to do.

So many fears threatened to swamp her—the move, the finances, the decisions. There were moments, though, small little snapshots when she knew she’d done the right thing. She needed to hang on to these glimpses for later when her sanity would be questioned and her resolve tested. Because she had no doubt that it would be.

She turned her head quickly back to Joe. His finger jammed in her eye. She gasped.

“Oh man, I’m sorry. It was just a... I mean it was...” He stumbled over his words and she started to laugh, her hand glued over her throbbing eye.

“Are you okay?” His voice was miserable.

“No worries. I’m sure I can rock the pirate look.” She peered up at him with the one good eye, sympathetic tears for the other eye flowing out of it. The look on his face was priceless. “Aargh, matey.”

He grinned. “You had a...just a...” His hand hovered awkwardly around her face, and then he gently tucked a flyaway piece of hair behind her ear.

No more joking. She went still, her eyes flying open, both of them, to look into Joe’s icy-blue eyes, which seemed kind of warm right now, to be honest.

He cleared his throat. “You know, now that you’ve been to the diner and the word is out, you’ll probably have visitors all day tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Well, they want to size you up. See if you look like the old mayor, report back to their friends. And they’ll bring you stuff.”

In her mind, she imagined a rocking chair, a puppy, a sack of unshucked corn and other absurd things arriving on her porch. “Like what?”

“Some will bring baked goods—cookies and pies. Some maybe something they canned last summer. Their favorite family recipe they take when people are sick. Those are always good. My favorite is the funeral potatoes. Mmm-mm.”

“You’re terrible.” She laughed. “They’re good, though?”