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  “That’s wise,” he agreed, though his gaze strayed to the porch. It wasn’t healthy for the old man to sit outside in the dead of winter. Plus, it just wasn’t like the Gerald Simmons he’d grown up with. “Maybe I should go talk to him.”

  “I don’t know what you could say that we haven’t already. Besides, he’s not really himself right now. He might say something…well, for lack of a better word, rude, and I wouldn’t want you to hold it against him.”

  He chuckled. “The Gerald I know was never interested in playing nice when it didn’t suit him.”

  Natalie smiled. “You’re right. Feel free, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Fair enough.” Moving toward the back porch, he paused. “On second thought, would you mind bringing two cups of coffee? Straight, no sugar for me and however your dad likes his. And maybe Christopher can lend you a hand for a few minutes?”

  “You got it,” Natalie said, and headed into the kitchen.

  “Dad, I don’t want to help out. I want to go home,” Christopher complained when Natalie was out of earshot. “Let’s just get started so we can leave. Some of us had plans that didn’t include manual labor.”

  Disappointment washed over him at his son’s attitude. “We’re here and these ladies need some help. There’s nothing at the house that can’t wait until tonight. Besides, as far as I could tell you were just on your computer.”

  “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” Christopher said.

  Josh tried to choose his words carefully, knowing how Carrie tended to berate their son for his computer habits. “Nothing is wrong with it in moderation, son. But you’ve exceeded moderation a long time ago. I’m not saying you have to give it up, but just give it a rest for a bit and try to get used to your new surroundings. What do you say?”

  “Do I get a choice?”

  Josh exhaled loudly, his patience thinning. “Chris—”

  Natalie returned carrying two coffee mugs and Josh swallowed the rest of his lecture. Christopher wasn’t in the mood to listen, anyway. He accepted the mugs with thanks.

  “I don’t know if it’s going to make a difference, but I sure appreciate your effort,” Natalie said honestly.

  Josh watched Gerald as he sat staring at the trees lining his backyard, lost in thoughts only he could read.

  “I’m happy to try,” Josh said, and Natalie opened the door for him. He stepped outside with a steaming cup in each hand as Natalie commandeered his son.

  Josh was standing right beside him before Gerald noticed, turning stiffly as if the cold had fused his joints together.

  Josh held out the cup. “Just the way you like it. Natalie says so.”

  It took a moment, but soon Gerald’s gaze cleared and he squinted. “What are you doing here?” he asked gruffly, but he accepted the mug.

  “Your daughters hired Halvorsen Construction to fix that hole in Natalie’s old room.”

  Gerald grunted. “Yeah, what’s that got to do with you?”

  “I’m working with Dean for a bit. Why are you sitting out here in the cold like a dumb fool?”

  “Because I like it out here.”

  Right. He took a measured sip from his mug. “So, what can you tell me about that hole?”

  “It’s a hole, boy! What’s it look like?” Gerald seemed flustered, his florid face turning pink in a flash. But his ire was short-lived, as if he didn’t have the energy to sustain it. “I was going to fix it. Damn oak came right through the window. But I didn’t want a bunch of strangers tromping through the house when Missy was so sick. She needed some peace. So I put up some plastic sheeting to keep out the rain and put towels under the doorway to keep out most of the draft. I was going to fix it, even placed a few calls to get an estimate, but then Missy took a turn for the worse and she had such a hard time sleeping because of the pain I wasn’t about to have a lot of hammering going on when she was fighting for every bit of shut-eye she could get. It was the only thing I could do for her.”

  Josh nodded, understanding the man’s need to protect his wife against the one thing he thought he could control.

  Gerald blew out a short breath and it plumed in the cold air. “By the end, Missy was in so much pain they kept her pretty drugged from the morphine. I couldn’t even think about that hole, and honestly, I didn’t have to…No one seemed to notice until now. For Gemini’s sake, it’s only been two months since it happened. Everyone needs to just settle down.”

  “The girls are worried about it, though,” Josh commented, and Gerald snorted lightly, which told Josh the old man thought they were overreacting. “You might’ve at least told Natalie. Tasha said she about had a nervous breakdown when she saw the damage.”

  At that, Gerald seemed to soften. “I didn’t want to worry anyone. This house was full of enough pain and misery as it was,” he added under his breath.

  Josh took another sip, letting the silence slide between them. Gerald wasn’t a man prone to whining or sharing, for that matter, but Josh suspected that the old man didn’t know how to deal with his grief and that hole represented more than just a job that needed doing. If left up to Gerald, Josh had a good feeling it wouldn’t get fixed for a long while. Tasha had been right to call. Finishing his coffee, he looked at Gerald. “You coming in?”

  Gerald didn’t answer, only lifted the mug to his blue lips and shrugged. “Why? There’s nothing in that house for me anymore.”

  “There’s nothing out here but pneumonia,” Josh reminded him harshly. “Missy’s gone. Sitting outside freezing your ass off isn’t going to bring her back. Besides, you’re scaring Natalie. It looks like she hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. And Tasha…Well, she’s hurting, too.”

  “They should just leave me alone,” Gerald muttered.

  “You know they won’t.”

  The old man exhaled with frustration, but Josh wasn’t in the mood to listen. Bitterness had curdled Gerald’s grief until the old man was sniping at everyone who tried to help, his daughters included. Josh knew Tasha and her sisters didn’t need to deal with Gerald in this manner on top of everything else. “No sense in making a bad situation worse. Isn’t that what you used to tell me whenever I’d gotten into a scrap and tried hiding out here so my own dad didn’t tan my hide?”

  “That’s different,” Gerald mumbled.

  “Good advice is good advice no matter who’s giving it out, and right now you’re acting like an old fool.”

  When Gerald only glared at him, Josh stood his ground. The old man was coming inside whether he liked it or not. “If you don’t come inside right now, I’ll leave you to the mercy of all three of your daughters. In their current mood, I wouldn’t push it. As far as I can tell, none of them inherited Missy’s gentle disposition.”

  Gerald seemed to mull over Josh’s veiled threat, and when he finally stood, Josh figured the threat held merit. But even as Gerald tottered with uneven steps on stiffened limbs, he hadn’t lost his sour attitude. “A man can’t just grieve his own way without people sticking their noses where they don’t belong,” he said, shooting a dark look Josh’s way.

  Josh caught movement out of his peripheral vision and Tasha disappeared from behind the lace curtain of the porch side window. A strange, unwelcome fluttering erupted in his gut at the knowledge she’d been watching him with her father. Was he out of line for what he did? Josh wasn’t sure. He was just doing what he felt was right for a man he’d known his entire life. Josh sighed and followed Gerald into the house. At least the old man wasn’t sitting outside anymore, even if he was grousing at the interference.

  Tasha paused at her parents’ bedroom and met his gaze. Something flickered in her stare that looked similar to gratitude but was flavored with something deeper, and he could feel the magnitude of her emotion as strongly as if she’d physically touched him. A small smile lifted the corner of her generous mouth, and he acknowledged their unspoken conversation with a slight nod. Tasha disappeared and the door closed.

 
LATER THAT NIGHT, TASHA sat with Natalie in the darkened living room, both exhausted from the emotional day.

  “Dad finally go to bed?” Tasha asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Natalie started, then swiveled her head to regard Tasha. “Someday you’re going to need to talk to Dad about…that day.”

  Tasha grimaced with irritation. Why was Natalie always pushing the issue? She met her sister’s stare. “And why is that?”

  “Because it’s an open wound between you two. And I think this family is suffering enough without dragging around old baggage.”

  Tasha sighed in spite of herself. She’d often rehearsed what she might say to her father if she ever found the courage, but the timing never seemed right. Then, after enough years had gone by, she figured it was best not to bring up old arguments. “Just let it go, Nat.”

  But Natalie wouldn’t. “I think that’s a mistake.”

  “I don’t really care what you think right now. It’s my decision and I don’t feel like sharing or opening up something I’ve done my best to put behind me. Sometimes I regret telling you.”

  The last part was muttered, but Natalie had perfect hearing. Tasha regretted her comment, but it was out there and she couldn’t take it back. Crap. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just worn out from the day.”

  Natalie nodded, but when she rose, her movements were rigid. “I have to get home. I have to be at the bookstore tomorrow and Nora is busy with a new client. That leaves you to help Dad with Josh. Sorry,” she added with little sincerity, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “But sometimes we end up with jobs that suck.”

  Such as carrying the burden of your sister’s secret. That’s what she didn’t say, and Tasha knew it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE surreal. At first, Tasha was jarred each time she saw Josh round the corner as he went to and from his work truck to get parts or tools, but oddly, it was soothing to have him there. They didn’t go out of their way to speak to each other but his presence was a privately welcomed one.

  Natalie and Nora had convinced their father to join a support group at the senior center, though Tasha wasn’t sure how they did it. She suspected Natalie had cajoled him while Nora had bullied him until he agreed just to escape them both. An unexpected giggle popped from her mouth and she looked around guiltily. It didn’t seem right to laugh when her mom had only just died. Weary from packing up more personal items, Tasha went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee to bolster her flagging reserve. Cup in hand, she passed by her father’s hobby room. Josh had put up a thick plastic sheet over the doorway to minimize the draft coming from the room while he fixed the damage, but Tasha could see his blurred outline as he worked.

  Josh had pulled the demolished siding, drywall and window framing from the house and he was checking the studs for structural damage. Shivering from the cold coming from just the sheet, she wondered how Josh withstood the extreme temperature in the room. He was dressed warmly but not overly so, and there was a small space heater inside but it didn’t take away the chill. Her hands curled around the mug for its warmth, and she wondered if he was going to break for lunch or keep working.

  A thought occurred to her and she returned to the kitchen.

  JOSH COULDN’T FEEL HIS fingers anymore. Pulling his work gloves from his hands, he walked to the space heater and tried warming them. It wasn’t ideal to make a repair like this in the dead of winter, but it wouldn’t have waited until spring. Feeling returned to his fingers in a rush of tingling pain and he replaced his gloves. He’d just picked up his drill again when Tasha pushed aside the plastic sheeting and crooked her finger at him.

  “Take a break,” she suggested, and disappeared.

  Josh hadn’t planned to stop unnecessarily—he’d even forgone bringing a lunch—but curiosity got the better of him.

  He set down his drill and followed, closing the door behind him.

  Savory smells and warmth wafted from the kitchen and Josh’s stomach growled. He rubbed at his gut with the realization that skipping lunch wasn’t such a hot idea. Now hunger overruled his good sense. He entered the kitchen and Tasha turned with a shy smile. “I made you some soup to warm you up,” she explained, motioning for him to take a seat at the island counter.

  Josh went to do as she directed when he caught sight of his hands. Grimacing and wondering at his manners, he detoured to the sink. “Smells good,” he said as he scrubbed the dust and dirt from his callused hands. “What is it?”

  “Nothing fancy, really. Just good old-fashioned creamy chicken soup with a little cheese tortellini thrown in. I made some garlic bread to go with it, too.” His stomach growled again and Tasha grinned. “Good thing I made extra.”

  Josh tried to smother the grin he felt coming, knowing full well he shouldn’t accept her offer, but his mouth was already anticipating a mouthful of what she was ladling into a bowl. “Need help?” he asked.

  “Nope. Just take a seat.”

  He did as she requested and Tasha placed a steaming bowl in front of him before returning to pull the bread from the oven. He accepted two slices and waited for Tasha.

  Sliding beside him, Tasha flashed him a smile for the courtesy and motioned for him to dig in.

  “Pretty good,” he admitted around mouthfuls. He sent an inquisitive glance her way. “Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

  Tasha shrugged. “Here and there. Living at the outposts over the years, I’ve picked up frugal cooking methods. Here in the States, there’s so much waste. In developing countries, you learn how to make the best use of spices, garlic or whatever leftovers you have at hand. Natalie has stocked Dad’s pantry with more food than he’ll ever need, but she wants to make sure he eats.”

  “Your dad’s really taking this hard, isn’t he?” It was a rhetorical question. He’d seen the devastation in the man firsthand but he sensed Tasha was holding a lot inside. He sensed a lot with Tasha. It made him squirm and yearn for more at the same time. He’d always considered himself a simple man; but at the moment he felt damn complicated.

  Tasha stirred her soup slowly, ostensibly to cool it, but Josh knew she was mulling over her answer. When she finally spoke again, her brow was troubled. “My dad…doesn’t know how to live without Mom. She did everything for him. It was the way their relationship worked. He was the gruff disciplinarian; she was the heart. He brought home the money and she ran the house. I think my dad doesn’t know how to be without his counterpart. She was…a part of him.” She looked at him, her gaze soft and a little lost. “I know how he feels. I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

  Josh nodded but remained silent. Words in this particular instance were useless, and he was never the kind of man to fill silence with the sound of his own voice. His parents were still alive; he could only imagine the heartache Tasha and her family were going through.

  “That’s how most families around here are,” he answered. “Emmett’s Mill is as traditional as they come.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe if my mom had put a little responsibility on my dad for the house he wouldn’t be so lost without her now.”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  She stared. “What do you mean?”

  “Your parents were comfortable with their roles. Can you see your dad trying to balance a checkbook or cruising the aisles at the grocery store? On the flip side, could you see your mom mowing the lawn or chopping wood?”

  Tasha offered a short-lived smile to indicate she understood where he was going, then sighed. “I know, but now…he’s a shell of the man he was without her. I can’t stay here forever. What’s going to happen when I leave?”

  “Don’t think about that right now. Focus on what has to be done this moment.” That’s what I do. Thinking too hard about the future was overwhelming…especially when you’re starting from scratch.

  “I guess.”

  Tasha returned to her soup
and Josh did the same. Several minutes passed before Tasha spoke again.

  “I hope Christopher is adjusting,” she offered. “I imagine transferring to another high school is rough on a kid, especially when they don’t know anyone.”

  “He knows Brandon, Dean’s son,” Josh said, wincing privately at the touch of defense in his tone. Despite the incident at school, Josh was still questioning whether it was the right decision to move Christopher away from everyone he knew. His son hadn’t been happy, but Josh had made an executive decision. And, he had to stick with it. “Besides, our alma mater is better than his last high school. A prison yard would be better,” he added darkly.

  Tasha startled. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing, forget I said anything,” he said, moving away from the counter. “Thanks for lunch.”

  “Josh, wait,” Tasha called after him, and he cursed his mouth. He stopped just before the entryway and Tasha caught up to him. The open concern shining in her eyes made him wish things were different between them. A private part of himself wanted to lean on her as a friend, but it was a selfish desire that he wouldn’t entertain. Tasha had enough on her plate without his problems. “What’s bothering you? Did something bad happen at Christopher’s last school?”

  Josh answered with heavy silence, a war waging in his mind as he contemplated his answer. The long months of struggling alone with Christopher’s academic woes, as well as the crushing weight of his failed marriage, were working against him as he realized he wanted to tell Tasha.

  “He was bullied pretty bad,” Josh finally admitted. “Some punks…they were going to cut him.” Tasha’s gasp spurred him on and the words came out in a tumble. “They cornered Christopher at lunch in an area that didn’t have a security camera or a campus cop around. He was fine,” he added, his tone almost more of a reassurance to himself than for the sake of his explanation. “He was lucky.”