Debra Kastner - Daddy's Home

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Excerpt “Where is he?” Christopher’s low voice resonated in her ears. “Get out of here,” Jasmine said, hurt and anger warring within her. “Not until I’ve seen my son.” “ Your son? Your son is doing very well without you. When did you decide to be a daddy, Christopher? Yesterday?” Some things hadn’t changed, Christopher thought. Jasmine Enderlin was as pigheaded as she’d always been. If she hadn’t jumped to conclusions a year ago, he wouldn’t be standing here like a stranger on her front porch. If God had been willing, they would have been married. But God wasn’t willing. And Jasmine wasn’t budging. He’d been so certain he was meant to come back. He loved Jasmine. He always had. And though he knew he had a long way to travel to get back in her good graces, it had to be done. He needed Sammy in his life. Sammy—and Jasmine.

About the Author DEB KASTNER The wife of a Reformed Episcopal minister, Deb naturally found her niche in the Christian/inspirational romance market. She enjoys tackling the issues of faith and trust within the context of a romance. Her characters range from upbeat and humorous to (her favorite) dark and brooding heroes. Her plots fall anywhere between, from a playful romp to the deeply emotional. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and three girls and, whenever she can manage, attending regional dinner theater and touring Broadway musicals.

Title Page Daddy’s Home Debra Kastner www.millsandboon.co.uk

Epigraph He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. —Micah 6:8

Dedication To my daddy, Jim Larkin, for never letting me give anything but my best. And for my girls’ daddy, Joseph C. Kastner, Jr., who never stopped believing.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Copyright

“Get out of here,” Jasmine said, hurt and anger warring within her.

“Not until I’ve seen my son.”

“ Your son? Your son is doing very well without you. When did you decide to be a daddy, Christopher? Yesterday?”

Some things hadn’t changed, Christopher thought. Jasmine Enderlin was as pigheaded as she’d always been. If she hadn’t jumped to conclusions a year ago, he wouldn’t be standing here like a stranger on her front porch. If God had been willing, they would have been married.

But God wasn’t willing. And Jasmine wasn’t budging.

He’d been so certain he was meant to come back. He loved Jasmine. He always had. And though he knew he had a long way to travel to get back in her good graces, it had to be done. He needed Sammy in his life.

Sammy—and Jasmine.

The wife of a Reformed Episcopal minister, Deb naturally found her niche in the Christian/inspirational romance market. She enjoys tackling the issues of faith and trust within the context of a romance. Her characters range from upbeat and humorous to (her favorite) dark and brooding heroes. Her plots fall anywhere between, from a playful romp to the deeply emotional.

When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and three girls and, whenever she can manage, attending regional dinner theater and touring Broadway musicals.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

He has showed you, O man, what is good.

And what does the Lord require of you?

To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly

with your God.

—Micah 6:8

To my daddy, Jim Larkin,

for never letting me give anything but my best.

And for my girls’ daddy, Joseph C. Kastner, Jr.,

who never stopped believing.

“Christopher’s back in town.”

Jasmine Enderlin stiffened at the statement. Keeping a carefully neutral expression on her face, she met her grandmother’s shrewd gaze. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Don’t be obtuse,” Gram snapped, shaking a wrinkled finger under Jasmine’s nose. “Don’t you pretend I need to spell it out for you. I’m not buying. You know exactly what I’m saying, and you know why. Now, do you want to know the details, or don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, not even sure Gram would hear her. She released an audible sigh and turned back to the thick olive-colored sweater she’d been folding moments before.

Jenny’s sweater.

Brushing the soft material across her cheek, she caught a whiff of Jenny’s light, breezy scent on it.

She wouldn’t have thought something as simple as the smell of her sister’s perfume would set her off, but for some reason, today it did. Her eyes pricked with tears, and she brushed them away with a hurried swipe of her fist, hoping Gram wouldn’t notice the furtive action.

Why would Christopher come back to Westcliffe at all, and especially now of all times?

As if to answer Jasmine’s unspoken question, Gram shrugged her age-bent shoulders. “He wants his son.”

“What?” She sprang from the bed, tipping a pile of freshly folded blue jeans into a heap at her feet. “What do you mean he wants Sammy? He can’t have him,” she added vehemently, hugging her arms to her chest as if protecting an infant there. Her infant.

A moment more and she would have dashed from the room to snatch up the baby boy sleeping soundly in his bassinet in the next bedroom, but Gram held up a finger in protest. “You haven’t heard the story.”

I know the story, she thought, her heart clenching. Love. Betrayal. Desertion.

That chapter of her life was over, she reminded herself, fiercely determined to remain in control of her emotions. She shook her head to detour the advancing thought, but it came anyway.

Jenny’s dead.

Ugliness folded over her like quicksand. God didn’t help Jenny. He could have, but He didn’t. Guilt stabbed at her conscience, and she briefly wondered if her thoughts constituted blasphemy.

Maybe they did.

But how could she change the way she felt, the way she viewed things? What else was she to think? Three months ago when she hadn’t been able to save Jenny. Not with all her years of medical training, not with so much love that she would have willingly taken her sister’s place.

And God had done nothing.

“It isn’t your fault, my dear,” Gram said as she hobbled over to a high-backed Victorian chair and seated herself with the sluggishness of age. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

Gram, she reflected with an inward wince, had the annoying ability to read her mind. Even as a child when Jasmine lost both parents to a tragic car accident, Gram had known what she was thinking and feeling. Gram had raised her, knew better than anyone what she suffered now.

“Because Christopher came back all of a sudden, after a year away?” she asked, knowing full well it was not the question Gram was answering.

Her keen silver eyes fixed upon Jasmine. If she was disturbed by her granddaughter’s persistent avoidance of the obvious, it didn’t show in her gaze.