A Family Under the Christmas Tree (2 page)

Sophie's heart melted a little at how sweet the child was to her grandmother. Troy met Sophie's gaze. “ 'Bye, Sophie.”

“Good-bye, Troy. It was nice to meet you.”

He smiled and gave Riggs a hug before thumping down the stairs and across the driveway toward the house next door. The beige and dark brown exterior of the charming single-story home blended well with the older residences on the street. Brick accents along the foundation added an interesting visual touch, and the evergreen bushes and trees in the yard were well groomed.

David sighed and watched him go. “Does it ever get easier?” he asked Louise.

“It will, David. Be patient.” Grandmother adjusted the blanket on her lap. “He's a great kid. He just needs some time to adjust.”

Sophie felt awkward standing there listening in as this man sought advice from her grandmother. She shifted and stepped back a bit.

David nodded and flashed a quick glance at Sophie. “Good-bye. I hope you enjoy your stay.” He turned back to Louise and smiled. “Thank you for your help.” He hurried after Troy.

Sophie watched the two disappear through a hole in the row of hedges that separated Grandmother's house from the newer
one next door. At one time, Grandma and Grandpa had owned the adjacent lot. Back then it had been a wooded wonderland, the perfect place for Sophie and her brothers to play when they came to visit. She cried her eyes out the day the trees had been cut down and dragged away.

Sophie heard a door close. “Where are Troy's parents?”

Grandma hesitated a moment before she spoke.“There was a car accident this past summer,” she finally replied. “Both parents were killed.”

Sophie's heart twisted. So that explained the melancholy she'd noticed in both David and Troy. “That's so sad.”

“Yes, it is.”

Sophie waited for her to go on, but she didn't say anything more.

Something wet nudged Sophie's hand. She glanced down to see the puppy staring up at her with big brown eyes. He was still wearing the crooked antler. She squatted down and dug her fingers into his soft fur. There was something so soothing about petting the pup.

“Oh, my. He's so cute.” She looked at Grams. “Riggs, uh? That's an interesting name. What kind of dog is he?”

“Bernese mountain dog,” Grandma said. “He's ten months old and already so big.”

Riggs licked Sophie's face. She laughed and wiped off a glob of slobber. “Who does he belong to?”

When Grandma didn't answer, Sophie's gaze shot back to Grandma. There was a gleam in her blue eyes.

“Grams?”

Grandma sighed. “He's mine. But I was hoping that maybe you'd like to have him.”

Sophie jerked upright. “Uh, that would be a no. Grams, I can't take on a dog. I'm
never in one place long enough to care for an animal. Let alone a big one like this guy.”

Riggs leaned into her legs and licked her hand. Sophie stepped away. He was cute, but there was no way she was going to let the puppy worm his way into her heart. “Why did you get a dog, anyway?”

Grandma plucked at the fuzz on the blanket. “I was lonely. And Simon suggested I get a pet. A cat might have been a better choice, but I saw Riggs at the Humane Society and fell in love with him.”

Sophie's heart clutched. Of course Grandma was lonely living here alone. She should have thought about that. The rest of the family lived in Southern California, and Grandpa had passed over a decade ago. Guilt slithered through Sophie. She should have made more of an effort to visit more frequently. She'd have to tell her brothers they also needed to make the effort to come see Grandma.

But one thing Grandma had said confused her.

“Who's Simon?”

Sophie narrowed her gaze. Was that a blush tingeing Grandma's cheeks? Or was it just the cold air giving her a rosy hue? In this light it was hard to tell.

“He's a friend from church,” Grandma said. “We serve together on the Helping Hands committee.” Grandma fiddled with the controls on her wheelchair. The wheels hummed and spun, and the chair turned so that she now faced the front door. “It's getting chilly out here. Shall we go in?”

Hmmm. Definitely a blush. Interesting. She'd need to find out more about that soon. For now, she hurried to open the door.

“Riggs will need to be wiped down. Do you mind? I'm not sure I could manage it. I can barely get myself bathed and dressed on one good foot,”
Grandma said as she pushed her chair inside the warm house. “There's a bucket for water and towels in the laundry room.”

Sophie eyed Riggs. The white and tan parts of his coat were crusted with mud and they nearly matched the black parts of his fur. His head tilted as he watched her, waiting patiently, as if he'd been trained to anticipate the need for a bath before entering the house. Surely Grandma hadn't summoned her just to care for the dog?

No, Sophie had a strong feeling that Grandma's intentions weren't that pedestrian. Sophie believed that she did need help after her fall, but she was pretty sure that wasn't all she had in mind.

With a little huff, Sophie went to fetch the bucket and towels.

The stunning Sophie Griffith was one more distraction David didn't need. He stared at the charcoal etching with frustration. Louise had mentioned on more than a few occasions that her unmarried granddaughter was coming to visit.

He had the distinct impression Louise was hoping something might kindle between him and Sophie. He suspected that was why she'd asked if he'd put up her lights yesterday at the exact time Sophie was to arrive.

He'd been amused by her meddling until he saw the leggy blonde step out of her car and he'd felt a visceral reaction in his gut. She was tall, which he liked, and her clear blue eyes had missed nothing. She seemed to stare at everything at once and he'd wondered if she was imagining what the world would look
like with the perfect lighting and the correct angle for her camera lens.

Louise had said Sophie was pretty, but “pretty” was such a mild word. She wasn't model gorgeous in that surreal way that some women had. No, Sophie's beauty was natural. Her golden skin spoke of other places, warm and sunny places. Her blond hair had hung loose about her shoulders and framed an oval face that he'd itched to draw the second he'd returned to his desk. Now that drawing stared back at him, pulling his mind away from his work.

He pushed the sketchbook aside. He couldn't let anything or anyone divert his attention. Operating a million-dollar company and raising a child—especially one you hadn't planned on—was hard enough. The last thing he needed was to add a complication such as romance into the mix. Romances, he'd found, took energy and effort that he didn't have right now. He'd discovered early on that along with love came heartache. It was a state of being he didn't want to experience ever again.

He refocused on his computer, which he'd set up in the dining room so he could work and keep an eye on Troy. Juggling the sudden demands of single parenthood and the company he'd built from the ground up was taxing not only his energy but also his emotional reserves.

After his brother and sister-in-law's tragic deaths, David had been granted custody of his nephew, a fate David had never expected. Why had Daniel and Beth appointed him guardian of their son?

David and Daniel had had such different lives the past few years. They hadn't seen eye to eye on many things. David had been focused on building his company, Daniel on taking care of his family. Daniel had been clearly disappointed that David had
devoted himself to work instead of family and faith. He'd said as much to David on more than one occasion.

Guilt ate at David for allowing a wedge to develop between him and Daniel. A wedge that had been shattered by Daniel's death.

And now, six months into fatherhood, David still felt like he was walking through a minefield. To say it was overwhelming would be an understatement.

There was no class to prepare someone to become a parent overnight. David was not only struggling with his own grief over his brother's passing, but he was trying his best to help Troy cope as well. Some days were better than others.

Yesterday had been good. Troy and Riggs had played hard for a couple of hours, and Troy had been exhausted by the time they'd returned home, which allowed David some focused time at his computer.

David hoped today would be good too, but Troy hadn't slept well. Ever since Daniel and Beth's accident, Troy had been struggling with nightmares—night terrors, the doctor called them—that left him screaming and afraid. The next day, they would both be cranky. But they'd managed to make breakfast together, do their laundry, and make their beds without any meltdowns. He considered that a success.

With school out for the holiday break, Troy was in the living room watching a cartoon. The volume crept up to a deafening level and grated on David's already tightly strung nerves.

He was working to develop a sensor for smartphones that would determine a person's hydration level. The sensor would be able to read the saturation in their skin when a finger was pressed against the sensor, and it would be connected to an app that would track and monitor this.

The idea came after a reporter for a national online newspaper
had issued a challenge to software designers to develop a number of seemingly outlandish apps. Every software developer in David's sphere had been abuzz about the list of wished-for apps. Some were too ridiculous to contemplate, while others had merit.

Like an app that detected when someone was dehydrated.

As David had done research into the negative effects of dehydration, he saw how useful such an app could be. He'd begun working on it nearly a year ago, and was now at the final stages. This project could be the one that set his company up for life. So much was riding on getting it right. And rolling the app out before anyone else got wind of it was paramount.

But to succeed, David needed time. Uninterrupted, focused time.

He rose and strode to the archway of the living room. Troy sat on the floor with his legs crisscrossed as a set of animated superheroes saved the world.

“Hey, buddy, can we turn the volume down a couple of clicks?” David asked.

Troy ignored him. David stepped over a dump truck to pick up the remote from the coffee table and decreased the sound. Troy seemed not to notice.

Shaking his head, David returned to his project. His hands flew over the keyboard of his computer. He made notes on a yellow legal pad. He was so close. This app could save lives if he could get it to run correctly.

Ten minutes later, Troy raced into the room and jumped on David's back. The chair squeaked with the extra weight. David took a deep breath and tried to summon as much patience as he could. Then David lifted his hands from his keyboard and took a deep breath. “Troy. I'm working.”

“
You promised we could go to the park!” Troy jumped down and twirled in a circle. “I want to go to the park.”

“You're right. I did say we'd go to the park. Later. But I need to work now.”

“All you do is work,” Troy said, his face set in a mulish look. This didn't bode well. “I want to play.”

“Troy, we'll go to the park after lunch.”

“No! I want to go
now
!” he shouted.

Cringing from the high decibel noise coming from the small child, David grit his teeth. “Do not yell at me.” He tried to keep his voice even and calm, like the books had told him to.

“You promised,” Troy said in the same tone of voice.

Again, David took a deep breath and answered calmly. “Do not raise your voice at me.” His hands gripped the chair, and he noticed that his knuckles were turning white. “We will go to the park when I am done here.”

“Well, I'm going to go now,” Troy said. His voice was quieter, but laced with challenge.

“You are not going to go to the park on your own. We will—”

“You can't tell me what to do!” Troy screeched. “You're not my daddy!”

David's heart sank. The accusation shredded his insides. He'd been warned that Troy would act out in his grief. David was barely processing his own sorrow at the loss of his brother; he couldn't imagine how hard this had to be for Troy.

Patience
, he told himself. He knelt down and gripped Troy's slender shoulders. Looking into his face, David saw his brother in the jut of Troy's chin, in the shape of his eyes. Sadness swamped him, making his eyes burn. “I know I'm not your father. I can't replace Daniel. But, Troy, you and I are all either of us has in this world. We have to figure out how to live together.”

“I don't
want to live with you anymore.” Troy wrenched free, and he ran toward the front door.

“Troy, no!” David raced after his nephew. David's feet tangled in the Thomas the Tank engine tracks that lay in the middle of the living room, and he fell to his knees as Troy ran out of the house into the wet, cold, rainy day. Without a hat or coat.