“She wasn’t at school today when I got there. She walked home alone again.”
He felt his mother’s hand on his back. “She’ll come around, bud. She’s had a lot of change to deal with. All that anger hides how she really feels.”
“She hasn’t spoken a word to me in the two weeks that she’s been here.” He had a lot of ground to make up with Amelia, he knew that. He may not be ready to be a dad, but he was one, and he didn’t want to screw it up. But where in the world did you start when you’d missed twelve years?
“Joe, she was dropped off at the door with a note and a backpack full of clothes that didn’t fit her. Give her some time. You weren’t exactly a bundle of joy when you first came here.”
That was an accurate statement. He paused for a second. “Did you ever regret it, taking me on?”
She shut the refrigerator door and grabbed his face between her hands, like she used to do when he was younger. “Darling boy, I would never regret you. You are my son in every way that counts. It’s tricky now, but soon you’ll be finding your way. I promise.”
Fighting the knot in his throat, he said, “I would do anything to be able to go back and make it right for her.”
After high school, he’d gone straight into basic training. He’d been in Afghanistan when Lori Ann was having his baby. She could’ve gotten word to him, but she didn’t try. He had no idea Amelia even existed until she showed up on his mom’s doorstep and he’d seen his own blue eyes staring up at him.
“I know you would do anything for her, and one day Amelia will understand that, too.” Constantly moving, she stirred the okra and tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pan. “It’s normal, Joe, to have feelings and questions about your childhood. You’ve had a rough few months. It’s no wonder you have questions.”
Maybe that was what brought Claire to Red Hill Springs, the questions that she’d never had the answers to.
“How long did you stay out there at the plantation? Was she nice?”
Long used to his mother’s seeming ability to mind-read, Joe shrugged, but he remembered the look on Claire’s face as she’d stared at her inheritance. “Her name is Claire. She seemed nice enough. A little thrown by the condition of the place. It’s falling down.”
“Is she staying at a hotel in Spanish Fort?”
“No, I think she’s staying there at the plantation.”
“That place is a dump.” Bertie pointed the spoon his way. He watched it warily as he sneaked a taste of the limas from the edge of the pan closest to him. “Go pick her up for dinner and tell her to bring her stuff. She can sleep in Wynn’s room.”
“Mom, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He rubbed his shoulder, sending a sidelong glance at the firmly closed door to the living room. “We have a lot going on right now.”
“We do.” His mother nodded in agreement. “But no one should show up in town and be left without a hot meal or a clean place to lay her head.”
He didn’t want to get involved. He wasn’t like his mother. Trusting, having faith, it didn’t come easily to him. A wary sense of self-preservation had been ingrained in him as a kid. Then he fought a war on foreign soil. And then he became a cop.
But he picked up his keys and said, “You’re sure about this?”
“Do I look undecided?” His mom had blond hair cut into a straight bob at her chin. She always looked perfectly groomed, even standing over a hot stove, or after a long day on her feet in the café. What she didn’t look was indecisive.
Arguing with his mother was pointless. Once Bertie took on a project, the best thing to do was get out of the way. Even his father could never say no to her, which was how they ended up with two cats, four dogs and an extra kid.
Now she was wanting to take in the mayor’s daughter, and that was the last thing he needed.
Claire leaned over the kitchen table, her pen moving almost as fast as her mind as she made an action list for the next day. A small mountain of chocolate wrappers smushed into little silver balls lined the table. The shock had faded and been replaced by a certainty that no matter how hard this was, she wasn’t going to back down. Of course, electricity would help.
The house was completely dark now except for the kitchen, which was lit by the several dozen candles she’d found in the closets around the house. A large room that ran the width of the house with a fireplace at one end, the kitchen had real potential as a gathering place.
At current count, there were one hundred and forty-two things on the to-do list and that was just for the house. It didn’t begin to cover the mountain of paperwork and red tape she had to tackle.
A knock at the open door was loud in the too-quiet house. She jumped to her feet, her hand at her chest. Through the screen, she saw the guy from earlier.
Joe, he’d said his name was. He was still dressed the same, except for the boots, which she hadn’t noticed before. They were scuffed and dusty and well-worn, which made her think there might be some hope for him. He didn’t have the sunglasses on, but they were in his T-shirt pocket.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You were pretty deep in thought.” He gave her a little apologetic shrug.
She walked to the door. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Is there a problem?”
He shook his head. “No, not at all. You look busy.”
She’d changed into different jeans—ones without a stain—and a soft, loose T-shirt. Not so fancy, but at least it was clean. “I’m making a list. A very long list.”
“May I come in?”
She hesitated before she unlatched the screen, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t been alone with her in the house this afternoon and this wasn’t the big city. People were probably neighborly here. She pushed the door open and he stepped inside the room. “I have a few Diet Cokes left in my cooler if you’d like one.”
“No, thanks, I’m good.” He tested a chair before he sat down in it. “What’s first on the list?”
“Getting more candles. Or even better, electricity.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up again. “That does seem like a priority.”
“Right?” She stacked the papers on the table and watched as the shadows from the candles danced across his face. “Before it got dark, I was able to look around a little bit. Most of the house is structurally sound, but all of it needs work if it’s going to be livable.”
“It sounds like a huge undertaking.”
She appreciated that he didn’t try to sugarcoat the truth. It was a huge undertaking. Gigantic. She blinked. “Yeah. My mom wasn’t afraid of picking up a hammer and taught me to be the same way, so I can do some of the work myself, but even so, the timetable is going to be tight.”
“It’s a beautiful old place. It will be great when it’s all fixed up.” His eyes were gentle and hers stung, again.
She told herself to get a grip. “Thanks. I think it can be, too. So what brings you out this way again?”
Joe cleared his throat. “My mom always cooks enough food for the entire block and she wanted me to invite you to dinner. It’s also possible that she wants to get a good look at you before the rest of the town does.”
“That’s nice... I think.” The candles flickered in the breeze from the open window and she glanced around the dim room. “You live with your mom?”
A bark of laughter escaped. “Yes, thanks for