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Marriage Is Just The Beginning
The conversation died, and silence held sway while the waiter cleared their dinner dishes and poured coffee. Then they had to talk, had to do something other than sit mutely, separated by far more than just a table.
Hugh drained his wineglass, cleared his throat. Then he squared his thin shoulders and met Grant’s gaze. “We were wondering if…thinking that maybe Cassie would be better off with us.”
Grant arched a brow, choosing his words with care. “I appreciate the offer, but I think it’s best that she stay home for a while, until we get better adjusted to the situation. Maybe this spring she can come and spend a few days.”
“And how many baby-sitters will you have gone through by then? How many business trips?” Red slowly climbed Hugh’s neck.
Grant stiffened. “I can’t—”
“Son, we aren’t suggesting that you don’t love Cassie. We aren’t suggesting she come for a visit, either.”
He said the words so quietly that for a minute, Grant thought he’d heard wrong. Until Hugh continued.
“I think we can offer her a more stable home than you seem able to do.”
Shock washed through Grant with a coldness that left him speechless. He could only stare at his father-in-law, and feel every ounce of blood drain from his face.
Then anger swept him, so overwhelming he gripped the edge of the table to force himself not to physically strike the man who sat before him. A man he had admired and thought of as being the father Grant had lost to a fishing vessel accident when he was a child. The man who had the nerve to suggest, for even a minute, that he give up Cassie.
He should have expected something like this after the way they’d acted while Catherine was ill, but he hadn’t. He didn’t dare release his hold on the table while he fought to remain silent, to remain seated until he had a semblance of control over the rage roaring through his veins.
Finally, he swallowed hard, then slowly stood until he towered above Hugh and Dorothy. He placed both hands flat on the tabletop and leaned slightly toward them. “Icicles will grow in Hell before anyone takes Cassie from me,” he said quietly.
He turned and walked away without a backward glance.
By the end of the week, the bank lobby was a hub of activity. Customers rushed in to take care of last-minute business just prior to closing. Phones rang; voices rose in a murmur, punctuated by a shouted greeting or burst of laughter.
Sharon looked up from her office and watched with pleasure the swift efficiency with which the tellers handled the customers’ needs. The past week had been good for business, Cassie a pleasure to have, and now Grant was home, a day early.
She frowned. Grant. She worried about him, about the effect his absences were having on Cassie. About—
The phone rang, jerking her from her thoughts. “Sharon speaking.”
“Sharon, Grant here. Hey, I need a favor. I’m in the middle of a meeting and—”
“You’re going to be late—could I pick Cassie up, Sharon quietly finished for him. “Grant, you just got back. Don’t you think—”
“There is nothing I can do about it,” he said. “Can you help me out?”
She sighed. “You know I can, but you owe Cassie, bigtime. I’ll take her to my place and bake cookies or something.”
“Don’t do dinner. I’ll pick up pizza.” He hung up.
“Pizza!” Sharon slapped the receiver down harder than necessary, glaring at it as if she could somehow conjure Grant in its place. She pushed back her anger, then stood and reached for her coat. Cassie was going to be disappointed.
Cassie was nowhere in sight when Sharon stepped into the brightly lit room at day care. Jean Simon, the owner, walked over to greet her.
“Cassie is in the time-out room.”
Sharon’s heart sank. “That’s the third time this week.”
Jean nodded, mass of blond curls bouncing, as they turned toward a small hall. “I tried calling Grant, but he’s been in meetings all day. This has been a bad week, although, to be honest, I almost prefer a Cassie with a temper to the silent little ghost she was for a while. Anything different going on at home?”
Other than an absentee father?
Sharon didn’t say the words they were probably both thinking. Instead, she replied, “Not that I know of. What happened this time?”
“She got into a fight with Johnny Whitaker.”
“He’s twice her size!”
“Yeah, well.” Jean shook her head with a small smile. “All I can say is, she’s got a future in boxing if she wants it.” They paused at the door. “She looks pretty bad, but if it helps, he’s got two shiners. And his parents aren’t going to cause any problems. I think they were both so embarrassed he got beaten up by a girl they would just as soon forget it happened.” She swung the door open, then left.
Cassie sat in an orange plastic chair, shoulders hunched, head hung, legs slowly swinging.
“Cassie?” Sharon walked toward her. Cassie slowly raised her head, right eye nearly swollen shut, circled with black and blue, with a little green and purple thrown in. Sharon swallowed a gasp and forced herself not to rush forward, instead folding her arms across her chest.
“He called me a name,” Cassie said, chin thrust out, good eye narrowing.
“And you couldn’t have just ignored him?”
Silence answered the question they both knew wasn’t really a question.
“Daddy working late tonight?” Cassie asked defiantly.
She looked small and defenseless. Pain pinched Sharon’s heart.
“Yes,” she answered, then opened her arms. “Come on over here for a hug.”
Cassie hesitated a second, then slid from the chair. Sharon squeezed the little girl tight, wanting, wishing, aching. She swallowed the urge to scream. If Grant had been standing next to her, she would have choked him. Instead, she hugged tighter and said, “He’s bringing pizza for dinner, so he shouldn’t be too late.”
An hour later the front door opened and Grant hollered, “Anyone home?”
Cassie rushed from the kitchen, Brittany bouncing at her heels, and Sharon was left to put the last of the cooling cookies away. She forced herself to slowly wash and dry her hands, and carefully compose her face before she turned and greeted Grant when she heard him walk into the kitchen. Cassie walked quietly at his side, clearly suffering from a scolding. Only the pup looked happy, eyes bright, whole body wiggling with excitement.
Sharon forced a smile. Grant met her gaze, then said, “Cassie, go wash up.” He waited until the little girl was out of earshot. “Shall I lie down on the floor so you can stomp on me now?” His voice was quiet, tinged with weariness.
Sharon tried not to notice the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the hollows in his cheeks that had deepened since last week, the way he held himself so tensely, almost rigidly, though exhaustion clearly etched his face.
Anger fled as quickly as it had come. “Oh, sit down, she said quietly. “Stomping is too good for you. Besides, you know as well as I do that I never can stay mad at you. Even when you deserve it.”
A smile curved his lips but didn’t erase the weariness in his eyes. He set the pizza on the table, walked to the fridge and pulled out a soda. Snapping the can open, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry I had to call you at the last minute like that.”
“So am I, but only for Cassie. You know I enjoy having her.”
He nodded, then tipped the can to take a long swallow of carbonated drink. Then he set the soda on the counter he now leaned against. “I don’t mean to take advantage—”
“That should be the least of your worries,” she said.
He paused. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Maybe you should have bowed out of the meeting.”
“I couldn’t.”
“And if I hadn’t been able to pick Cassie up?”
He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and didn’t answer. He bowed his head slightly, and his dark-blue eyes suddenly filled with a bleakness that sent chills along Sharon’s spine. He seemed so very alone.
She stepped closer, laid a hand against his chest in unspoken support. Grant lifted his head, dark gaze intense.
“That is one hell of a shiner she has.”
“I know.” Sharon let her hand slide from him with a sigh and a step back. “I suppose we should be grateful she’s coming out of her shell. But she was in trouble three times this week.” She took a deep breath, then plunged on, certain he wouldn’t want to hear her words but believing a lesser friend would keep silent
“Grant, I know you are doing your best, but Cassie needs more of your time.” She ignored the tightening of his mouth, the narrowing of his eyes. “You work too many long hours, and…well…I wonder if you understand how hard it is for her when you’re gone. And I can’t help but wonder how much longer you can do this alone, Grant. I am not—”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Grant said in a low, hard voice.
Anger blazed in his eyes. Sharon automatically took a half step back at the intensity.
“First Catherine’s parents and now you. Well, you are wrong. Damned wrong.” He swept a hand through his hair, leaving it tousled. “I cannot believe that you are even saying this. I thought we were friends.”
His eyes were glittering, accusing her of betrayal. Sharon mentally stiffened, then lifted her chin and met his gaze without flinching. “You know very well we’re friends, but that has nothing to do with the subject at hand.”
He arched a brow, a dark slash that seemed to accentuate the anger she sensed simmering inside him.
“What exactly are you suggesting I do? If you think for one minute that I am going to hand my daughter over to my in-laws, think again.” His voice turned acidic.
“I have no answers,” she snapped, stung by the tone of his voice. “Nor am I suggesting anything of the kind. All I am saying is that the present situation is not good enough. Okay? Not for you. Not for Cassie.”
Silence stretched between them, fraught with tension.
“I love my daughter. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her,” Grant finally said.
The huskiness in his voice tugged at Sharon’s heart. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and ached for both Cassie and Grant. “I know you do,” she half whispered, “and so do I.” Then she cleared her throat. “I am sorry I brought it up. It’s just…well…it is important I’m worried about Cassie. And I’m worried about you.”
Grant tucked Cassie into bed, wincing each time he looked at the black eye. It didn’t take an intellectual giant to see that her temper had worsened since Catherine’s death and that his absences did not help, but what was he to do? His job required a lot of his time. It also provided them with a nice home, and Cassie a closet full of clothes and an overflowing toy box.
He remembered well the sharp-edged knife of need, of want, when others had seemed to have it all and he had nothing. The humiliation of wearing secondhand jeans, owning two pairs of socks and one pair of shoes—the cheapest sneakers to be had—when starting grade school. His hands tightened into fists. Cassie would never suffer that sort of humiliation. Ever.
His mother had done her best, but being widowed and left with three boys to raise had not been easy. He had started mowing lawns and shoveling sidewalks to earn money when he was nine, and had been working ever since.
He shuddered, forced his fists to relax and shook off the memory before it dragged him deeper into the past. After closing Cassie’s bedroom door, he walked to the den, flipped on the desk light and settled into the leather chair.
Sharon’s words haunted him. He knew she’d spoken from the heart with the best of intentions, and that she’d spoken from experience. As a child of parents who were commercial fishermen, Sharon had suffered violent motion sickness on even the calmest of days at sea, so each fishing season she had lived with Grant and his family. She knew well what it was like to be left by her family for long periods of time. Which was exactly why Grant could not dismiss her words easily.
If only his mother lived closer than Seattle, if she were in better health…. He mentally snorted. If only…what a waste of time!
Both brothers lived in the lower forty-eight, thousands of miles from being any help. They had their own families, their own lives. And he knew with chilling certainty that Cassie did not need another sitter. She needed a mother.
A mother could not be had without that woman first becoming his wife.
Wife. He closed his eyes and fought the memories. But the night seemed ripe for ghosts of the past, so they came, stronger than he this time, whirling through his mind with a flood of muted color like old photographs, faded, comers curled.
Catherine, face flushed with happiness on their wedding day. Happier yet with the birth of Cassie. A fleeting happiness soon dimmed, replaced by a growing anger and discontentment She had hated Anchorage and wanted to move back to California, though she had known before their marriage he had every intention of living in Alaska and building a career there. Grant had hoped, as a last straw, that accepting a promotion to construction manager and moving to Valdez, building a new house, would please her, would somehow provide the miracle needed to salvage their marriage. But it hadn’t. She had immediately hated Valdez, almost as much as she did Grant for bringing her there, and was preparing to take Cassie to California and divorce him, when she suddenly fell ill.
He had tried everything he could think of to make her happy and had failed. Nothing seemed able to prevent the downward spiral, the disintegration of their marriage, except illness. Cancer. Frightened, angry and blaming, Catherine had clung to him, though their love had long died. He’d held and soothed her, accepted the blame and watched, totally helpless as death relentlessly claimed her with a swiftness that allowed little time for forgiveness.
Cold washed through him. He sprang to his feet, heart pounding, hands clenched. Sweat dampened the back of his shirt. He snapped the lamp off and strode down the hall to his room.
He would never put himself in such a vulnerable position again. Any love he had left was for Cassie, and Cassie alone.
The last thing he wanted was another wife.
Chapter Two
Three women answered his ad for an in-home baby-sitter.
Marcie, with long, blond hair hanging straight down her back. Black, shiny tights topped by a low-cut blouse showing far more than a hint of cleavage left nothing to the imagination. She had a disconcerting habit of leaning toward Grant, which he supposed was designed to raise his blood pressure. It did—not with lust but with anger. When she suggested it would be best for all if she moved in with them, he concluded the interview and walked her to the door, not bothering to have her meet Cassie.
A dull throb began in his brow.
Sandra was a quiet woman, with pale-gray eyes that seemed to match her spirit. She was in the process of going through a divorce and wasn’t sure how long she would remain in Valdez. It depended, she said, on whether she met another man soon, because she was not a woman who could live without a man in her life. Grant thanked her for coming, ushered her from the house without meeting Cassie and crossed his fingers that the next woman would be perfect.
The throb turned to a pounding.
Beth had six children, watched five others and needed to earn more money because her good-for-nothing exhusband was behind on child support once more. Though Grant felt the full impact of her imploring eyes, he thanked her, also, and explained that he would keep her in mind if he couldn’t find someone who would come to his home to care for Cassie. Cassie remained in her room, playing.
The pounding exploded into a full-blown headache that had him pinching the bridge of his nose as he settled back into the leather chair in the den.
“Did you find one?” Cassie asked from the doorway.
Grant shook his head as she crossed the room and crawled onto his lap. She tucked her head beneath his chin and the headache began to dim.
“Maybe Sharon would do it,” Cassie said in a small voice.
“Honey, Sharon has a job, remember? How would they run the bank without her?” Sharon would be perfect, he thought, tightening his arms slightly.
“Oh.”
Silence.
“I wish Mama didn’t the.”
Her voice was but a sad murmur that drove nails of guilt into his heart. “I know you do, pumpkin. So do I,” he finally answered in a harsh whisper. Then he squeezed her in a tight hug, as if able to protect her from all pain, past and future—an impossible task that made it all the more important.
They sat in silence in the heavy dusk of the room. Snow fell from gray clouds; thick, fat flakes captured in the frame of the window. Cassie snuggled closer to Grant. He held her close, heart aching with love, and wondered what he was going to do.
* * *
Grant’s anger filled Sharon’s kitchen in almost visible waves. He stormed from counter to counter, jaw clenched so tight she feared for his teeth. She was thankful that Cassie was playing with Brittany in the backyard, enjoying the six inches of new snow.
He turned and slapped Hugh’s letter on the table with a thump. “I can’t believe Hugh and Dorothy, that they have the nerve…” He swallowed as if to gain control. “I simply cannot believe they are doing this to me, to Cassie, after all that we’ve been through.” He ground the words through clenched teeth.
“Read it—read the damned thing.” He nearly flung the letter at her.
Sharon shook her head and pushed it away. “It’s not my letter to read,” she said. “Besides, I think you told me everything they said.”
“You’re right.”
He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, then slumped into a chair opposite her. Dark circles shadowed his glittering eyes. Sharon Wished with all her heart that something she could do or say would change matters.
He leaned toward her, eyes burning. “Don’t they understand I am trying…trying to find a damned sitter. And I don’t ask to go on business trips. I shouldn’t have to travel so much once, the project starts, just a few more months.” He closed his eyes briefly.
Sharon reached to clasp his large hand, which was clenched in a tight fist. He brought his gaze to hers and held it.
“They think they can provide a better, more stable home for Cassie. A better home for my daughter than I can provide. A muscle leaped in his jaw, then tightened.
Her heart ached for her friend. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Grant, but though misguided, they mean well,” she said softly. “They aren’t suggesting a change in custody to hurt you.”
He pulled his hand away to drum his fingers against the table, frowning.
“They love Cassie and only want what’s best for her, she added.
“And taking her from her father is best?” He nearly spit the words.
Sharon shook her head. “No, I don’t think so, but—”
Grant held a hand to stop her. “They want what can’t be had—their daughter back. And since that won’t happen, they want mine.” His voice grew harder as he spoke. “I’m not even sure having a sitter would matter. They would probably question the permanence. The only way to provide a foolproof solution—” he emphasized the words “—is for me to marry. And it will be a cold day in hell before that happens.”
“Grant, you won’t always feel that way. With time—”
“Time? To hell with time. To hell with Hugh and Dorothy. They want Cassie as replacement for Catherine, as payment because I took her from them and brought her back in a coffin.”
“No.” Sharon nearly shouted the word, frustrated and a little angry herself. Grant arched a brow. She continued, shaking her head. “You’re twisting this, distorting it, Grant. Hugh and Dorothy are not vindictive people—”
“Aren’t they? You weren’t there, didn’t see how they acted toward the end,” he shot back with an angry growl.
“Maybe they did act a little strange, but that is certainly understandable under the circumstances.” She paused. “You might have read more into it than was meant.” He snorted. She ignored him and continued. “There is no way I can really know, but I don’t think they are doing this to make life hard for you. If they’re guilty of anything, it’s of loving Cassie, and we are all guilty of that.”
“Are you defending them?” He glared at her.
“Only their right to care.” She glared back.
“You need to keep in mind that this is not about you or me or Hugh and Dorothy,” she finally said quietly. “It’s about Cassie and what is best for her.”
After a minute of silence. Grant dropped his gaze. He carefully folded the rumpled letter and slid it into his pocket. Then he looked at her. “I am sorry for losing my temper like that. It wasn’t fair to you,” he said quietly.
She reached out to cover his hand with hers again. A large hand that dwarfed hers in comparison. “Don’t be silly, Grant. We’re friends, and that’s all part of what friends are for. To be there to listen. You would do the same for me.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t move a muscle.
“Maybe you should consider letting me care for Cassie on a permanent basis in the evenings when you’re gone. It might ease Hugh and Dorothy’s concerns. They’ve met me and know I love her. I’m certainly stable, don’t plan to be moving anywhere, and I’m not looking for marriage. She paused. He remained silent. “I won’t meet you at the door in anything sexier than a pair of sweats,” she added. “I promise.”
Grant half smiled, suddenly looking tired by the effort, then withdrew his hand to run it through his hair. “No. I won’t let you do that. This is my problem. I’ll solve it.”
“You can’t always—”
“Sharon.” Grant reached to cover her hands with his. A brief, friendly clasp. “You do far more for me than anyone can expect and I appreciate it. But I cannot allow you to take on the two of us on a permanent basis.”
She opened her mouth to argue, to say that she wanted to.
“No,” he said firmly.
And she knew he meant it.
* * *
Grant had to go to Anchorage for meetings, just overnight, but Cassie clung to him at the airport and sobbed as if she would never see him again.
“I have to go, Cass. You know that. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise,” Grant repeated over and over again as he held his daughter.
His eyes glittered when they met Sharon’s, and he looked as if his heart were being ripped out. She felt as though hers was.
She reached to touch his arm. “She’ll be okay once you’re gone,” she said.
His eyes held her for one long minute. “I wouldn’t leave her if I didn’t know that And there’s no one I trust my daughter with more than you,” he said in a husky voice.
A sudden lump in Sharon’s throat prevented an answer. She silently squeezed Grant’s arm, then stepped back.
“I have got to go, Cass. The plane is getting ready to leave,” Grant whispered, and pressed one last kiss to her brow. His hands trembled as he handed the small girl to Sharon. Cassie wound her arms around Sharon’s neck, buried her face in her shoulder and sobbed.
“Goodbye,” Sharon murmured, and held Cassie’s trembling body as Grant strode out to the plane. She cajoled Cassie into watching as the plane lumbered across the runway, to turn and race forward, before finally climbing into the sky with a great roar. Cassie’s sobs quit, her tears drying on her cheeks.
“Shall we go home and see what Brittany is doing? Sharon asked.
Cassie nodded, then wiggled to be released. She slipped a small hand into Sharon’s hand. A hand that gripped Sharon’s heart, as well.
And there’s no one I trust my daughter with more than you.
Warmth washed through her, as she remembered Grant’s husky words. His trust, his friendship, was as precious a gift as Cassie’s love.
She glanced down at the top of Cassie’s head, at the slightly crooked part in the shiny black hair and the butterfly-shaped barrette at the top of each braid, and her heart swelled. She loved Cassie so much it sometimes frightened her. What was she going to do when Grant did remarry one day? And she had little doubt that eventually he would. A man with his looks, his resources. It wouldn’t…hadn’t taken long for women to notice. It was only a matter of time until Grant reciprocated the interest.