A Family Come True (30 page)

“No. It probably doesn’t. Though might I remind you the only thing that happened before I ended things with you was a lot of talking and the proverbial river of tears.”

There was that.

“Today wasn’t Darcy’s idea, in case you were wondering. I was the one who had that brainstorm.”

Okay. That one took him by surprise.

“Not your usual style.”

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking for two these days.” She bit into a cracker. Tiny crumbs floated down and settled on her denim skirt.

He helped himself to a long draw on the beer. “Thanks for telling me, but it’s all kind of irrelevant anyway, okay? You were there. You heard us. It was all pretend.”

“Ian Tyson North, if you try to tell me—
me
, of all people—that you two aren’t in love, so help me, I will knock you off this dock and into the river. And you know damned well how cold it is this early in the season.”

Whoa. Taylor, making threats? Taylor, talking to him about love?

“I’m going to have to pee again in about five minutes, so I don’t have time to listen to your nonsense. Let’s cut to the chase.” She waved the sleeve of crackers like a sword. “You are so obviously head over heels for her that it’s a miracle you aren’t doing permanent cartwheels. Her and Cady. The three of you together—it’s like looking at the sun. You can’t do it directly because it’ll burn the heck out of your eyes.”

“I—”

But for the life of him, he couldn’t deny it anymore. Maybe it was because someone else had put it into words. Maybe it was because, even though it hurt like hell, a part of him desperately wanted it to be true. Maybe because this was Taylor, the woman who had once heard all his dumbest thoughts and wildest dreams. But just like that—at least for the moment—he was tired of pretending.

“Okay. You got me. I fell for her.”

“Congratulations.” She patted his hand. “Believe me. I couldn’t be happier for you.”

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m here and she’s at her grandmother’s. For another, I’m moving back here and she’s staying in Stratford. For another...”

Huh. The words felt trapped somewhere in his chest.

“For another...?”

He shook his head.

“Ian.” A soft hand gripped his chin and she turned his face in her direction. “Ian, this is me. Not Moxie. Not your mother. Me. So talk.”

Shit.

“She wants to make things right. For Cady, I mean. Wants to give her a nice, solid home and family. Without, you know, some guy messing things up by only being around part-time, wanting her to move. Stuff like that.”

“She actually said that?”

“What? Oh, God, no. She thinks Xander is the one who’s gonna mess everything up.”

Taylor’s brow crinkled. “Then what exactly is the problem?”

“Tay. Xander is Cady’s
father
. He needs to be there. I...don’t.”

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing, then opening wide as she seemed to get what he was trying to say.

“Let me get this straight. You’re in love with her. But because she is confused—not that anyone could possibly be confused by the things she’s had tossed at her the last few days, oh, no—you have decided that the best course of action is for you to walk away so she doesn’t have to worry about life being too complicated and confusing for Cady.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Oh, yes, it is. And you want to know what else it is? It’s stupid. Also, it’s such a...a
martyr
play that I might have to toss you in the water after all.”

“I am not a martyr.”

“Right. And when Carter and I said we would be the ones to leave Comeback Cove so you wouldn’t have to be separated from your family, you said, ‘No. That’s fine. I’ll just go off by myself and take my halo with me.’”

“I didn’t... Look, the dairy was already running without me. It made sense—”

“The
dairy
would have coped, no matter what happened. But you sure got to pat yourself on the back for being the noble one, didn’t you?”

“I...” But once again, the words refused to come.

He didn’t want to think about that too closely.

“Look, I’m not saying you didn’t have good reasons to leave. A fresh start in a new place after something like that... Yeah, that’s legit. But you can’t make me believe you didn’t console yourself sometimes by congratulating yourself.” Her voice dropped. “Just like you can’t make me believe that you’re not terrified of what could happen between you and Darcy.”

“Nothing is—”

“Cut the crap, Ian. I know you. You’re scared silly to talk to Carter because you’re afraid if you open that can of worms, you’ll never get it to close again. You’re scared beyond silly to be with Darcy because you’re afraid you’re going to wind up having your heart broken again, so you’re grabbing any virtuous excuse you can to walk away before that happens.”

He would sell his soul for her to be wrong.

“Here’s the thing, Ian. Maybe the can of worms won’t get closed, but at least if you open it, nothing’s going to explode.” She patted his hand. “And maybe you think you’re doing what’s best for everyone, but from where I’m sitting, it looks like you already failed at that whole avoiding another heartbreak thing. So what the heck do you have to lose?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T
HE MEMORIES REACHED
out to claim Darcy even before she unlocked the door to Nonny’s log cabin.

She saw the ghost of her dad in the shadows from the wall of black walnut trees lining the driveway; heard the echo of his laugher in the muted babble of the creek at the edge of Nonny’s property; felt his arm around her, strong and supportive, in the branches of the weeping willow that trailed across her shoulders as she walked up the stone steps.

“Nice place.” It was the first thing Xander had said to her since they’d left, other than asking for directions. “Peaceful.”

“Good way to describe it.” She fitted the key into the lock. “Of course, when I was a kid, all I could think was that it was lonely.”

Especially after a visit to the North home, which always had overflowed with noisy, sticky life.

Xander lowered Cady to the floor and helped her walk into the house. Darcy let them go on while she drank in the sights of the most unchanging piece of her childhood.

The living room was shadowed, as always, despite the floor-to-ceiling windows on the south wall. Even the brightest summer sunshine came in filtered by the abundance of trees around the house. The stone fireplace, the fuzzy brown sofa, the coffee table made of a cross section from a fallen maple—they were all there, lifted straight from her memory.

She checked on Cady, cruising her way around the sofa with Xander hovering over her, and then moved to the fireplace. Her heart, already wiped out from trying to keep up with what had happened with Ian, took in the parade of photos of Cady and twisted painfully. Some of them were ones Darcy had dutifully sent. Most, though, were the candids she had posted on Facebook—Cady in her splash pool, Cady grabbing Lulu to haul herself upright, Cady asleep on, oh, God, Ian’s shoulder.

A low whistle sounded behind her. “Someone has a serious case of Cady love.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “Nonny hates the computer. She makes herself use it, but she complains the whole time. For her to figure out how to get these off Facebook and print them... For you or me, it would be nothing. For her...”

For Nonny, it would be an act of love.

Dear Lord, did I totally blow that one, too?

She couldn’t do anything about it at the moment. Nonny would arrive tomorrow. In the meantime, she had practical matters to consider—unpacking, finding food, making a place for Cady to take her overdue nap before she fell apart.

“Could you get the portable crib from the car, please? I want to get it set up before someone starts wailing.”

“Sure. But Moxie said there was one here.”

“Right, but I doubt it’s put together.”

“Probably not. But it’ll only take a second to look.”

He clattered up the stairs before she could point out that he was wasting time. She sighed, popped Cady on her shoulder and felt the familiar weight of her little girl sinking into her. Yep. Definitely nap time.

“Hey, Darce,” Xander called. “Check it out.”

“Don’t tell me,” she said to whatever smirking angels might be watching. “I was wrong about this, too.”

Cady let loose with a quick butt squeaker. Just in case Darcy had missed the message, probably.

She ascended the stairs, walked down the hall lined with photos of the trees, of Dad, of Darcy through the ages, past Nonny’s room and the room Daddy used to use, to the room Nonny had let her redecorate when she had been all of fifteen. She had a feeling the purple-and-teal decor she’d chosen probably hadn’t aged with grace.

She stepped into the room and winced. Damn. The one time she wouldn’t have minded being wrong...

But all was not lost. For there, tucked into the corner beneath one of the many posters she’d stuck to the walls, was a white four-poster crib. A smiling teddy bear danced at the top of each post and across the front of the change table sitting beside it. Sheets on the crib and a carton of wipes on the table were further proof that Moxie hadn’t been kidding.

“Oh, wow.”

“Looks like we’re good to go.” Xander pointed at the poster. “Though I don’t know how I feel about her sleeping under a picture of Hanson. Tell me you’re not going to teach her the words to ‘MMMBop.’”

“Of course not.” Only because she had never been able to understand them. “I think she’s tired enough to fall asleep in a strange place, but I should probably— No, wait, there’s a monitor right there.” Guiltier and guiltier. “Maybe while I’m getting her settled you could bring in the things. And then I should probably look through the kitchen and send you to the store for some essentials.”

“No problem.”

Thank heaven. She was desperately in need of a few minutes alone, of some time without an audience, to let down her guard and—

And what? Feel all the hurt and bewilderment and guilt and worry?

“On second thought, maybe I should be the one to go.”

“Whatever.” But as she checked Cady’s diaper—dry, good—he continued.

“You know that sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about it.”

She closed her eyes. “I know.”

“I don’t appreciate being lied to, Darcy. I know you must feel like you’re barely treading water, but if we’re going to make this work—”

“I know.” The irony of an ex-con lecturing her about honesty wasn’t lost on her.

She held Cady toward him for a kiss, which he bestowed gently.

“Have a good nap, pretty girl. We’ll play when you wake up.”

A soft whimper was the only reply.

Xander slipped out of the room. Darcy hit the lights and grabbed the monitor, but instead of turning it on, she sat in the rocker wedged into the spot where her guitar used to live.

Alone in the shadows, she rested her head against the back of the chair, closed her eyes and rocked.

But unlike a scraped knee, she could not rock away this hurt.

* * *

I
AN SPENT THE REST
of the day avoiding his family as much as possible.

He stayed down on the dock until the mosquitoes came out. Then he dragged himself back to the house, slapped some peanut butter on bread and took himself to the sunporch. Tucked off to the side of the house as it was, the room gave him the perfect spot to turn everything over in his head while remaining undisturbed. He heard the repeated creak of the screen door and the slam as it closed behind folks. He heard footsteps and voices and the soft clink of bottles each time someone opened the refrigerator. He closed his eyes, letting the sun warm his face as he listened to muted voices and silverware jangling and always, always the laughter. Sometimes it was short, sometimes low, occasionally loud and hearty. But almost every trip into the kitchen included at least one person laughing.

God, he’d missed that.

He’d always associated his family with laughter. It hadn’t always been appropriate—witness the way Carter and Hank had fallen into a silent snickering fit at Grandpa Gord’s funeral when the minister had stumbled over the word
clock
—and yes, sometimes it had been cruel and used against each other. None of them had been above lobbing a well-timed insult or a mocking sneer while they had been growing up.

But most of the time the laughter had been the kind that mattered most, shared and supportive. The kind that drew people together instead of driving them apart. The kind that had gone missing from his life two years ago until he’d found it again with Darcy.

And now he might have lost it all over again.

He roused himself long enough to take Lulu out for her last call of the night. Once she was done, he crept back inside and considered his choices. Climbing the stairs to the bedroom would be a waste of energy. No way could he sleep in that bed without Darcy.

“Guess we might as well hit the hay here tonight, girl.”

He tossed an ancient blanket on the floor for her, then stretched out on the gilder and covered himself with an afghan. It was a lousy fit, but what the hell.

“It’s not like I’m going to get much rest no matter where I am. Right, Lu?”

A cold nose nudged his hand. His throat tightened.

“Thanks.”

He stared into the darkness, reliving his own idiocy over and over in his head like a song stuck on replay. All around him, the house settled into quiet. Lulu sent up some soft doggy-snores. The refrigerator hummed through its cycle, and outside an occasional splash reminded him that life on the river was still flowing.

He dozed on and off, always jerking awake with a horrible sensation of falling that had nothing to do with the narrowness of the glider. After about the fourteenth such episode, when the sky was beginning the shift from inky black to pearly gray, he hauled his cramped self upright and stumbled off to the bathroom.

When he came back, Moxie was sitting on his so-called bed.