Kate Welsh - For Jessie's Sake

When Harley Bryant walked into the kitchen, he’d jumped up and tossed his clothes on, ordering Abby to do the same. Harley Bryant had had the biggest mouth in two counties. Colin had stepped into the kitchen pulling the door shut behind him, assuming Abby would stay hidden, but she hadn’t. Harley had figured out what had happened, so Colin denied it. But he’d done it clumsily. If Abby had so much as touched him, she would have confirmed Harley’s suspicions and the whole town would’ve known. So the best he could do was to sneer that she was so young that her having made a pass at him was a joke. Then he’d coldly sent her off to bed.

God, he’d been such a damned clod. He should have found a better way to disarm the situation than being so cruel to her. And he had been cruel. In trying to protect her, he’d hurt her more than gossip ever could have.

Lightning lit the sky outside the tall window in the front room at Cliff Walk at the same moment thunder cracked and literally rattled the windowpanes. Jessie sat up and screamed before Colin could make it to the bed. “It’s okay, honey. Daddy’s here.”

He settled on the bed facing her and Jessie covered her ears as another clap rolled overhead. “It’s so loud. I don’t like it.”

Colin scooped her up into his lap and snuggled her head under his chin. “It always helps me to remember that thunder can’t hurt anyone. It’s just the clouds banging together.”

Jessie yawned expansively. “Well, I wish they’d stop it.”

“Me, too,” he admitted. He turned so his back was against the headboard, still cuddling Jessie to his chest. He rubbed her back, trying to soothe her fears. “Try to sleep. Daddy’ll hold you till the storm passes, and tomorrow we’ll get started on our house. Once the repairs are done, you can help me pick the colors of the rooms.” He smiled in the dark. “You’re going to like it here. I promise.”

Jessie yawned. “Brown like my magic rock. I want the house to match my rock,” she told him then dropped off to sleep. He smiled a little sadly remembering when, like Jessie, he’d thought a daddy could fix anything. But he knew that, like his father before him, there were a lot of things he and Jessie’s “magic rock” couldn’t fix.

He’d picked up the rock she treasured on the morning he’d left Torthúil—all but run out of town on a rail by James Hopewell. He’d kept it to remind him of the home he’d lost so he’d never stop fighting to be as rich and powerful as the man who’d forced him to leave. That day he hadn’t been sure he’d ever see Torthúil again. He’d given the rock to Jessie when he’d known they would be returning because the closer the move to Pennsylvania got, the more anxious she’d grown of the changes to come.

And it was the things neither he nor the “magic rock” could fix—his own guilt and his anger at Abby—that were keeping him awake.

As he sat there nine years later, holding Jessie in his arms, revisiting what had happened that morning so long ago, things looked different. James Hopewell’s anger toward Colin looked different. Wouldn’t Colin go to nearly any length to protect Jessie? So, okay, maybe Hopewell showing up at Torthúil the next day was understandable. He’d still been shepherding two of his daughters through their teenage years, so having expected Colin’s parents to be involved in the meeting made sense. As was telling Colin to get out of town, to stay out so he and Abby had no further contact. That, too, fell in the forgivable range.

But the rest of what Hopewell had done was still simply unforgivable and inexcusable. He had threatened to see to it that the local bank foreclosed on the McCarthy’s farm if Colin didn’t agree to all his demands. Because their loan had been slightly delinquent and because Hopewell was powerful enough to make good on the threat, Colin had known it was a real possibility. And if Abby had turned up pregnant, nothing would have saved his family from her father’s wrath.

Then later that summer Hopewell had crossed the line into cruelty by refusing to allow Colin to return to Hopetown for his younger sister’s funeral.

Some would say Hopewell had done him a favor, and Colin acknowledged that it was probably true. He’d made Colin so angry that he’d worked like a Trojan to achieve the success he’d desired. But Abby had betrayed him by telling her father what had happened.

He hadn’t believed she’d gone to her father, had nearly denied the truth until Hopewell went on to explain that he’d met Abby when she’d come in that morning. She’d been crying, he said, so he’d comforted her, then pressed her for the truth until she confessed everything. Nothing would have convinced Colin to betray Abby but, he sighed, she had been young. Immature. Now that he’d seen her all grown- up, that fact was pretty hard to ignore, and harder to hold against her.

But there was still Tracy’s death and the belief he’d long harbored in his heart, that Abby had somehow played a part in his sister’s death. How else would Tracy have met the rich kid who’d been drunk behind the wheel of the boat the day she was killed? He’d no doubt been a member of the privileged crowd the Hopewells hung around with.

Well, James Hopewell was dead now. And that left Colin with a problem. What did he do with not just his anger toward Hopewell for his ill treatment but with this powerful attraction to the man’s daughter?

Chapter Three

Abby peeked around the kitchen door into Cliff Walk’s dining room. Her ace chef, Genevieve Richards, had prepared the meals each guest had requested the night before and now everyone sat happily eating. Everyone but Colin and his adorable child. Abby had been so knocked off her stride last night that she’d forgotten to ask them to choose from the selections on the breakfast menu. Consequently Genevieve hadn’t even known they’d checked in.

“All set, Abby,” Genevieve said from right next to her.

Abby jumped a mile, nearly upsetting the tray in her chef’s hand.

“Oh, God, Genevieve,” she gasped. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Genevieve looked down at her generous waistline and chuckled. “I’m too heavy on my feet to sneak anywhere and you know it.”

“Then what were you doing right there next to me?” Abby demanded.

She was immensely fond of her chubby cook who always joked about her weight and her unrepentant love of food. So when Genevieve looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, Abby wasn’t about to argue the point since she was nearly sure she had.

“I was on my way into the dining room to serve the last of the meals. You were in my way,” Genevieve explained patiently.

Abby felt a blush color her cheeks. “Sorry. I was preoccupied.”

“You sure are interested in that hunk out there. Why aren’t you in there chatting with him and your other guests the way you usually do?”

“Interested? Me? Don’t be silly. I loathe the man.” She refused to comment on her neglect of the guests. The way Genevieve was staring at her, Abby already felt like a bug under a microscope, so she didn’t intend to give her friend more ammunition.

“Any woman who’d loathe a man who looks like that and treats his kid like she’s the center of his universe needs to have her head examined. I think all this catering to strangers is rotting your brain, girl. Now move out of my way. I have better things to do than stand around watching you hide from life.”

“I do not hide from life,” Abby objected. “I have a very full life and a busy one. And what could you possibly have to do with everyone’s meal ready?”

“I have dinner to arrange. All your current guests have elected to upgrade and have dinner here this evening. I’m going Italian tonight. I want to get started on the fresh pasta.”