positioned like sphinx guardians in front of the refrigerator, glared at him from across the room.
“Nice place you have here,” he said as he surveyed the warm amber walls and abundance of multipaned windows looking out into the timber.
“It’s a mess right now. We got back from the airport pretty late last night.”
“Beautiful country.”
“I’ve got ten fenced acres, with state forest surrounding the house on three sides.” She perched stiffly on the arm of the upholstered chair opposite his, still avoiding his eyes. “This is a perfect place to raise the kids. There’s lots of room to play.”
He ignored her pointed tone. “After coming up your road, I’m glad I chose an SUV instead of a sedan at the airport. You must not get much traffic up here.”
She didn’t return his smile. “There are only a few homes on Spruce Road. I’m at the end of the line, actually. Public access to the government preserve is south of here. But I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to discuss real estate.”
“No.” He’d rehearsed his speech during the flight north. Weighed different approaches. Honed his logic, to best make his points clear and get this done as efficiently as possible.
If only he’d returned to Dallas a few weeks sooner, before Cynthia’s injury, the children’s transition into his care would have gone smoothly. But from the steely glint in Hannah’s eyes, he already knew that wasn’t going to happen.
His conversations with Cynthia and social services in Dallas had made it clear that the situation was now far more complicated.
Maybe the children hadn’t had time to settle in and bond with her, but Hannah had been granted temporary custody and had already brought the children north. He couldn’t legally swoop in and whisk them back to Texas now—even though it was the right thing to do.
Unless he could convince her that it would be best for everyone involved. And why wouldn’t she be relieved? The Hannah he remembered had been flighty, irresponsible. Surely she would understand that if he took the kids, her life would be a lot easier.
She crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest. “Well?”
“I’m here to see Molly and Cole.”
“Because...?”
“They’re my niece and nephew,” he said easily, “just as they are yours.”
“You’ve missed them a lot, I’m sure.” Her eyes narrowed. “Since you’ve seen them so often.”
The ever-present phantom pain in his right arm began to pulse in deep, stabbing waves in response to his rising tension. “I’ve been overseas in the military. As you probably know.”
“But you never went home to see your family? Not even,” she added in a measured tone, her gaze fixed on his, “when the kids were born? Or your own brother’s funeral? At least, I didn’t see you there.”
“I wasn’t.”
He hadn’t been able to arrange for leave in time to fly back from the Middle East for the christenings. And as for the double funeral this spring...
He flinched as a cascade of images slammed through his brain. Gunfire. Explosions. Screams and blood and wrenching pain. And, finally, blessed darkness. That first long, hard and drug-fogged month at Walter Reed had left him incapable of anything more than simply existing.
“The kids say they’ve never met you.”
“I saw Molly when she was toddler, and I made it back when Cole was starting to walk, but they were probably too young to remember. I plan to make that up to them, though.”
“By finally finding time to visit them way up here?” The veiled note of sarcasm in Hannah’s voice was unmistakable.
“Actually, now that I’m stateside, I want to take them back to Texas, where they belong.”
“No.” Her eyes flashed fire and she shook her head decisively. “I don’t think so.”
She’d definitely changed.
When he’d spent those three weeks with Hannah years ago, she’d been a fun, lighthearted nineteen-year-old with a sense of adventure and daring that matched his own.
Impulsive and giddy, she’d dared him to go cliff diving at the reservoir and had matched him shot for shot at a gun range. She’d invited him on five-mile runs in the moonlight, after the oppressive heat of those Texas summer days had faded.
She’d also been impetuous and immature, he’d realized in retrospect, though at the time he’d been sure she was his soul mate—if there was such a thing. He hadn’t wanted to miss a minute of her company during the brief time he’d been stateside.
But now, instead of a sparkling sense of fun in her eyes, he saw only keen intelligence, absolute determination and a heartfelt wish that he would simply disappear.
After what he’d done to her, he expected nothing more.
But that didn’t mean he was going to give in. No matter how difficult it was going to be, he owed it to Rob to make sure his kids were raised right, and were raised where they belonged.
“You do know that your custody is just temporary.”
“That doesn’t mean it will end. I spent considerable time with the children’s caseworker, my Texas lawyer and in court. Even in a situation like this, involving out-of-state custody, the children’s welfare and happiness are still paramount. So we’ll have home visits and interviews by a caseworker after thirty days to evaluate how the kids are doing. Then again at three and six months—at which time I will petition for permanent custody and ultimately adopt them, if Molly and Cole agree.”
He ground his teeth. Perhaps the nineteen-year-old he’d dated had grown up—but she was not the right person to take on this responsibility. “Clearly, there are lots of uncertainties. Is it fair to get them settled clear up here, when they’ll need to move again?”
“That won’t be the case.”
He cleared his throat. “We need to straighten out this situation, the sooner the better. I honestly think they’d be better off coming back to Texas with me. You’d be free of responsibility, and they could be back in a familiar school, with their friends. Close to relatives and—”
Her smile vanished. “Close to what other relatives? Cynthia? Who didn’t want to deal with them? And their uncle Ethan? Who travels the world? Who else is there to give them consistent day-to-day time and attention? Your dad is in a residential facility. Your mom and grandfather are gone. Would you need to hire a nanny for the months you’re away?”
“What can you offer them?”
“A stable home. A loving home in the country with lots of animals and a huge fenced yard. I have lots of close friends with children they can play with. A warm church family. This is a friendly small town, where people know each other well and watch out for each other. Good schools. And,” she added, meeting his eyes squarely, “I work at the Aspen Creek Clinic, so they’ll have the best of medical care. I can guarantee it.”
“It seems you’ve given this some thought.”
“Since the day of the accident—not just when you showed up at my door. The kids don’t even know you, Ethan. I heard Cole asking who you were and wondering why you’d never visited—at least that he could remember. Anyway, I’m their godmother—which ought to tell you something about their parents’ wishes.”
He snorted at that. “And I’m their godfather, so I guess we’re even.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t believe it. No one ever mentioned a thing about that. You certainly weren’t at the christenings.”
“I was stationed out of the country and couldn’t make it