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But he simply did not have the emotional resources to deal with a wife. The very thought sent chills along his spine.
The next day a letter from an attorney came express mail, an official demand for custody of Cassie from his in-laws. Grant opened the letter late evening, after Cassie was in bed.
Anger rose in him as he read, then fear. Even the tiniest of chances that he could lose Cassie overwhelmed him. And the sense of betrayal, of attack, from people he loved was incredibly painful. As well, he did not want to alienate Hugh and Dorothy, because Cassie loved her grandparents and they her. They had all suffered a tremendous loss and didn’t need to lose one another, as well.
A whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions spun in his head. Like a vortex of vibrant colors that did nothing more than whirl and spin and slam up against black solid walls of no answers.
The room seemed to shrink. He was suffocating. Choking. He fought the feeling, resisted it with every fiber of his being, until he finally had to rush through the house to the deck. Bitter cold greeted him; frozen fingers of winter gripped his bare skin. Biting, burning his lungs as he drew deep breaths to steady himself. He felt unable to ease the feeling of impending doom.
The phone rang, jerking him back into the house. Grant stiffened at the sound of Hugh’s voice, and he fought the urge either to slam the phone down or to unload the emotional turmoil that still churned in his gut.
“How about letting Cassie come stay with us for a while?” Hugh offered.
“You want custody of my daughter because I’m gone too much, yet you’re suggesting I send her down there, where I’ll hardly ever see her, for who knows how long? That makes a lot of sense.”
“And you going off and leaving her with a baby-sitter, a different one every few months is good?” Hugh’s voice rose.
“She’s my daughter, Hugh. Do you think I would do anything to harm her?” He took a deep breath. “You don’t have the right to do this, to hurt us more than we already have been. Cassie is my daughter. She belongs with me. His voice was low, hard. His heart pounded painfully in his chest.
“If you couldn’t keep a wife happy, what makes you think you can be a good parent?” Hugh cried.
“It’s time for this conversation to end, before we both say things we will only regret,” Grant answered quietly, suppressed anger knotting in his throat.
Hugh paused. “This isn’t about you or me, Grant. It’s about what is best for Cassie.”
“Is it?” Grant asked softly with a thread of steel in his voice. “Catherine is gone, Hugh. Cassie is not going to replace her. And until you decide to drop this lawsuit, we have nothing to discuss.”
His hand trembled when he hung up. He shut his eyes for one long minute, half expecting the phone to ring again, then slowly walked over to the window when it didn’t. The lights of the town burned below, throwing shadows on the snow that spread across lawns and roofs, so that it looked like a thick layer of winter butter.
If you couldn’t keep a wife happy, what makes you think you can be a good parent?
Hugh’s words returned. Unbidden. Unwanted.
Pain slammed through Grant, taking his breath away. His hands curled into fists as a wave of guilt followed. As the memory of Catherine’s unhappiness unrolled in his mind.
He’d tried. Oh, how he had tried.
And he had failed.
The words screamed through his mind, angry accusations from the past.
Head bowed, fists clenched, he fought the memory. What happened between he and Catherine had nothing— not one damned thing—to do with his being a good parent to Cassie. He slowly raised his head. Forced each finger to unfurl.
The only thing that mattered was what was best for Cassie.
That is all he wanted and worked so hard for. It would be easier if he could deny his absences did not have much impact on Cassie, but he couldn’t. The walls inched closer once again.
It would be easier if he could deny that Hugh’s concerns had some validity. He couldn’t.
Regardless, he would never give Cassie up. To anyone. He couldn’t quit his job—he had to work to be able to provide for his daughter. Baby-sitters and nannies weren’t the answer. He took a deep breath, then another and a third, as his mind circled the truth like a wary wolf a trap.
He needed to find a mother for Cassie. A wife.
As soon as possible.
The very thought chilled his soul.
* * *
“I have decided to get married,” Grant told Sharon the next evening over fresh-baked pie and coffee in her kitchen.
“Married?” she echoed, color draining from her face.
The darkness of her eyes, filled with shock, pulled at him. The shiny mass of dark red-brown curls that stopped at the curve of jaw made her skin seem even paler. Skin that would be soft to the touch.
He frowned and looked away.
A shout of laughter, the bark of a dog, drifted through the window from the backyard. Cassie was playing out back with Brittany.
“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Sharon finally said.
“I’m not.” Grant shoved his empty plate back, forced himself to look at her. “I am thinking…planning to run an ad in the Anchorage paper.”
Her mouth dropped open, then she snapped it shut “You’ve given up on finding a sitter,” she said flatly.
“Not permanent enough.”
“I see.” She slowly pushed her plate back. “Are you that worried about losing Cassie? I thought the attorney said—”
“It’s not just the custody suit. Cassie needs a mother and there is only one way I know to provide that,” he said grimly. “You yourself suggested I do something.”
“I suggested that you spend more time with your daughter, she said quietly. “And I also offered to watch Cassie for you.”
“Sharon, you know that I appreciate everything you do, everything that you have done for Cassie, but I need to find a permanent solution. And I can’t accept your offer. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
After a minute, she cleared her throat. “Why an ad, Grant? Why not marry someone you know, someone who cares at least a little about Cassie?” She continued before he could speak. “Maybe you should do something temporary. Let me watch her the way I offered and start dating. In time you’ll get over losing Catherine, Grant, and meet someone you can love again.”
Grant laughed, a harsh, humorless burst of sound. “If it wasn’t for Cassie, I would never marry again.” He slowly enunciated each cold word.
Sharon’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth as if to argue, then closed it.
He chose his words carefully. “This is going to be a business deal only, with a contract up front, a salary and a bonus for completion.”
Sharon slowly shook her head.
“It’s no different from hiring a sitter or a nanny,” he argued. “You know as well as I that if I hired a live-in, half the town would have us involved or at least in bed with each other unless she was ninety-five and in a wheelchair, and maybe even then. At least if I contract someone for marriage, she’ll know up front exactly what I expect. There will be no emotional involvement or expectation between us. And no one, not Hugh or Dorothy or anyone else, can find fault with the situation.”
“You can’t pay someone to love Cassie,” she said quietly.
“I would hope they would come to love her.” He sighed, suddenly tired. “I have to do this, Sharon. It’s not a perfect solution, a perfect world, but there isn’t a thing I can do about that.”
Sharon tossed and turned, squeezed her eyes shut, tried to force sleep—and finally gave up. The digital letters on the clock confirmed that it was four in the morning. Brittany burrowed deeper on the blankets and watched with sleepy eyes as Sharon pulled on a pair of worn sweats. At least it was Saturday, so she could nap later.
The thoughts that had haunted her throughout the night returned full force. Grant was going to marry. She closed her eyes briefly. Brittany trotted at her heels as Sharon headed for the kitchen, badly in need of a cup of coffee. Cold air greeted her as she shooed the sleepy pup out into the backyard, then turned toward the coffeepot.
I have decided to get married.
The words seemed to shriek through her mind, through the silence of the winter’s early morning, as a layer of dark quiet and frigid temperatures covered Alaska like a thick, impenetrable quilt. Exhausted from a sleepless night, she told herself for about the ten-millionth time that she was overreacting. The coffeepot choked and gargled. Brittany barked, then shook snow from herself when Sharon let her in.
It’s not a perfect solution, a perfect world, but there isn’t a thing I can do about that.
Although she well knew that, Grant’s words still caused her heart to ache. In a perfect world she would not have gotten the infection that had hospitalized her just months after getting married, then had kept her flat on her back in bed for three weeks at home, leaving her so badly scarred internally that she was unable to give her husband the children they both so desperately wanted. In a perfect world Charley would not have stopped loving her because of it, would not have left her for a pregnant girlfriend who happened to be Sharon’s best friend. Catherine wouldn’t have gotten ill. The list could go on.
She poured a cup of coffee, wandered into the living room to pull the drapes, then curled on the love seat to watch as snow drifted to the ground. Brittany curled next to her, chin resting on Sharon’s ankle.
In a perfect world, she would have been pretty enough to catch Grant’s interest and they would have fallen in love. Instead, she’d had to endure their high school years, watching Grant date the prettiest girls while she went unnoticed. By college, she had reconciled herself to the fact that she and Grant would be nothing more than friends. Yet when he had brought Catherine home to meet the family, then married the sophisticated, beautiful blonde, Sharon had been shattered with a sense of loss.
And now he was doing it to her again. Marrying another woman.
Why not me? The thought welled up from within, so strong and unexpected that Sharon nearly sputtered taking a sip of coffee.
Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. She was not feeling sorry for herself, but unless something miraculous happened to her overnight, Grant would be no-more interested in marrying her than he would a—
She put the coffee cup on the end table with shaking hands.
Grant was going to marry a stranger, without emotional commitment. Why wouldn’t he marry her?
Why would she want him to?
Cassie. The answer whispered through her mind with a sense of rightness. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She wasn’t asking for an emotional commitment. By marrying Grant, she would become a mother to a little girl she loved dearly.
Mother. She closed her eyes at the rush of emotion that simple word brought. Something she had always wanted and would never have. It wouldn’t matter that she couldn’t have children, because intimacy would not be part of the bargain.
And she would not lose Grant again.
You have lost your marbles, she told herself sternly.
And then began planning what she was going to say to convince Grant that she hadn’t.
By the time the sun finally filtered thin light through the clouds, the coffeepot was drained and Sharon had nearly paced a path in the living room carpet. She glared at the clock as if it were a mortal enemy, paced some more, then glared at the clock again.
When it struck ten, she gathered courage and reached for the phone to dial Grant’s number with trembling fingers. A quick trip to the store for muffins, and fifteen minutes later she and Brittany pulled into Grant’s snowblown driveway.
Cassie met them at the door, bundled in brilliant-red snow pants and jacket. “Daddy said I could play outside with Brittany. Is that okay? Please, Sharon?” Her eyes pleaded unnecessarily.
“Keep her leash on, and look out for cars.” Sharon paused to watch as the little girl clambered up the snowbank and into the empty lot next door, Brittany bouncing at her side. The two were vivid splashes of color in motion against blinding white.
She turned, entered the house and slowly closed the door. She swallowed hard, fighting a sudden urge to spin around and run as fast as she could before it was too late.
“In here,” Grant shouted from the kitchen.
“Coffee?” he offered as she entered the brightly lit room.
“Milk would be better,” she answered. She lifted the bag she carried. “Muffin? I got poppy seed.”
He grinned. Her pulse leaped.
Nerves, she told herself as she shrugged out of her jacket and settled at the table. A minute later, Grant sank into a chair opposite, steam rising from the dark, rich liquid in his cup, golden muffins on a plate between them.
“So,” he said after a large swallow of coffee. “What did you need to talk about?”
Whiskers shadowed his lean jaw, and his eyes captured and held her as though she were under a spell. Her throat dried. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the breath to push words out. Could not find the words, period.
“You okay?” Grant arched a brow.
Heat flooded her face. She quickly nodded, grabbed her glass of milk as if it were a lifeline and took a swallow. Carefully setting the glass aside, she took a deep breath as Grant lifted his cup.
“I am answering your ad,” she said.
He sputtered, spilling coffee down the front of his T-shirt. Sharon gasped. Grant sprang to his feet, ripped off the shirt and grabbed a dish towel. He mopped the front of his chest and glared at her.
One look at his broad, well-muscled chest covered with thick, black curly hair and Sharon jerked her gaze to his face and kept it there, heart and pulse racing.
“My ad?” he asked softly.
She lifted her chin slightly and tried to still her pounding pulse and heart. “Yes, your ad. I think we should get married.”
He froze, dropping the towel to his side.
They stared at each other, gazes locked. Grant’s eyes were without a trace of expression. Sharon was filled with shock that she’d actually said the words. But now that they were out her resolve strengthened, even as she mentally cringed from his reaction.
“Why in the hell would you want to marry me?” His words were carefully enunciated. His eyes wary. He dropped into his chair.
“You can quit looking as if you think I am going to leap across the table and try to have my way with you. I’m not one of your past baby-sitters,” she said, heat filling her cheeks. “It’s not you I want…I mean…not in that way…it’s Cassie. I love Cassie and I don’t want to lose her, and regardless of what you say, if you marry someone I will lose her. I don’t think I could bear that, Grant.”
“Aren’t you over—”
“No,” she cried, suddenly impatient.
“Let me get this straight. You love Cassie so much that you’ll enter a loveless marriage with me? Are you listening to yourself, Sharon? That is nuts!”
Sharon lifted her chin a notch, eyes narrowing. “Says the man who is planning to marry a total stranger. One he’s going to advertise for in the paper and purchase. Grant, finding a wife isn’t like getting a puppy.”
He flushed as his jaw tensed. “I wasn’t planning on using the pet section. And I thought I made it perfectly clear that I’m doing this for Cassie.”
“Well, so am I. Is it so hard to believe I could love your daughter as much as you? Think about it—”
“No.” He shook his head emphatically.
