me.” Susie MacIntosh thrust her arm through his and propelled him into the house. “Focus on the simple and the mundane.”
Susie had known him all those years ago, years before they both moved upstate to Grace Haven.
“You’ve got to forgive yourself, Gabe. God doesn’t want you to spend your life beating yourself up. He wants you whole and happy again.”
Susie’s opinion was similar to the reverend’s talk last Sunday.
And maybe it would have worked out that way, if Elise had been okay. But she wasn’t all right, ever again. Then she was gone, too.
“We make choices, Gabe. All of us. You, me, Mack. Elise.”
He couldn’t listen to this, because there was no way he could lay any of this on Elise. He’d left the door of the SUV slightly open. He must have. He was the last person in it. He’d pulled into his buddy’s driveway and parked. Then he’d gotten Gracie out of her car seat and walked into the broad backyard of Jim Clayton, another state trooper.
He was the designated driver, so he grabbed some cold iced tea and talked NFL prospects, waiting for the four o’clock kickoff in Jim’s man cave–style barn toward the back of the property.
And then came the scream.
Nine years later, he still heard the scream.
Elise’s voice, screaming his name, screaming for help, and Gracie Lynn, their beautiful little girl, lying so still in the grueling heat of the SUV.
Her death was ruled accidental, but he knew better. He was her father. She was his responsibility, and he’d failed her over football stats and arguments about team superiority. All while his baby girl lay perishing in the unyielding temperatures of an SUV parked beneath a brilliant September sun.
No, there were no second chances for stupid fathers.
God was big enough to forgive because he was God.
But Gabe was a mere man, and there was no way on this earth he could forgive himself. And that was that.
The group of young movers crossed from Gabe’s yard into hers when the final load had been brought and distributed, but Corinne’s heart went into overdrive as the tall, square-shouldered policeman followed in their wake. Gabe Cutler, chatting with “Mack” MacIntosh, another local trooper.
“Mom, we’re going to check out the cove, okay?” Callan and five of his teammates got to her first.
“No swimming,” she reminded them. “It’s too cold for that.”
“No swimming. But we might throw Tee into the water, just because she’s a pest.”
Tee pretended innocence, but Corinne knew the truth. Tee was a hoot, but she could be a pain in the neck to her big brother, and no way did she want the twelve-year-old hanging out with fourteen- and fifteen-year-old boys. “I’m keeping Tee here to help me. You guys did all the heavy lifting. We’re doing food.”
“Mom.” Tee folded her arms and scowled. “Girls don’t have to stay home and cook while the brave hunter goes in search of food anymore. We can actually do things, just like they can. It’s called the new millennium.” She hooked her thumb toward the teenage ballplayers, heading for the cove up the beach. “I could have helped move things. And I should be able to go to the cove. I’m twelve.”
“I know how old you are. I was present at your birth, remember?”
But Tee saw nothing amusing in her reply. “We’ve got food ready, and everything’s done. Why can’t I go?”
What could she say? That she wasn’t sure the boys’ conversations would be okay for Tee’s ears? And that Callan deserved some time away from his nosy little sister?
The boys were good kids, but they were hormone-struck teens, and she wasn’t ready to have to deal with Tee and crushes and heartbreaks. Why had the idea of kids spaced so close together appealed to her a dozen years ago?
Oh, that’s right.
Because she didn’t know any better.
Tee huffed into the house as Gabe, Susie and Mack climbed the short steps on one side while the boys raced across the short stretch of open beach. “They did a great job today.”
“I’m so glad.” She opened the grill, judged it ready and pointed out the grilling tools hanging from a head-high two-by-four. “Tools of the trade. And the meat is in the cooler. Where’s Tucker?”
“I put him in the house. He’ll need to get a feel for his boundaries, so for now he’s napping on the floor. Or staring at us through the sliding glass doors, which seems to be more accurate at the moment.”
They all turned. The black, brown and white dog peered at them through the glass, tongue lolling, hoping they’d notice.
“That’s a tough face to ignore,” noted Mack.
“And he knows it. But better safe than sorry.” He moved toward the cooler. “I’ll save him a hot dog. Tucker forgives anything if there’s a hot dog involved.”
“I wonder if there’s a similar system that works on kids,” Corinne mused. “It’s definitely cheaper than a cell phone, which is our current argument of the day.”
“Tee doesn’t let things go, does she?”
“No. And I hate being the bad guy 24/7, but that’s kind of how things shake down.”
Understanding marked his gaze. “My mom said that, too. She raised me on her own, and she always said the hardest part was being the tough one, all the time. No respite. But it worked out in the end.”
“That’s my hope and prayer, right there. That they grow up to have full and happy lives. Like you did.”
His face drew down slightly as he began laying the meat on the hot grill surface. She started to chat with Susie as the hamburgers, hot dogs and Italian sausage sent meat-scented smoke their way.
Corinne breathed deeply, loving the scents of a cookout on the lake. Susie turned a pale shade of gray-green and looked dreadful.
Pregnant.
Corinne had dealt with morning sickness both personally and on a professional level. She took Susie’s hand and led her toward the house. “I’m going to show Susie around inside. You guys okay?”
“Just fine.”
“Yup.” Mack lifted a cold bottle of iced tea their way. “See you in a few.”
She got Susie inside to the bathroom just in time, then gave her a cool, damp washcloth to lay across her forehead. “Sit down and breathe easy, and it will pass.”
“I’m so embarrassed.” Susie’s mouth scrunched up below the wet cloth. “Corinne, you don’t even know me.”
“No time like the present.” Corinne laughed. “But I’ve seen this particular malady often enough because I’m a nurse in the crisis pregnancy unit. How far along are you?”
“Eighteen weeks. But we’ve kept it pretty quiet because pregnancy hasn’t gone well with us.”
“Susie, I’m sorry.”
Susie shrugged beneath the cool cloth, but her chin quivered. “I’m with a new doctor and she’s determined. And I’ve never been sick like this before.”
“A well-set pregnancy makes its presence known.”
“Is that true?” Susie sat up and whisked the damp cloth from her forehead. “Because the doctor said that, too.”
“It is in my experience. And I’m putting you on my prayer list right now because