Marriage Is Just The Beginning. Betty Sanders Jane

sorry to have to be a bother—”

      “Don’t be silly, Grant. You needn’t worry about me. It’s Cassie you should be worried about.” She paused, then quietly added, “You’re spending too much time away from her.”

      “I have to go,” he said, and wasn’t sure whom he was trying to convince.

      “I don’t want you to.”

      Cassie’s lower lip was thrust out, trembling, when he told her that evening. Pain squeezed his heart at the sight of tears shimmering in her eyes. “Hey,” he said softly, drawing her to him with a hug. “You’ll get to be with Sharon for a whole week. Plus your buddy Brittany. And I’ll bring you something really special.”

      She brightened a little at that, but still cried when he dropped her off at Sharon’s Sunday evening.

      Guilt clung to him like a dark shroud as he flew from Valdez to Anchorage, then Seattle and on to Irvine. Guilt that once again he was asking Sharon for help, and once more he was leaving Cassie behind.

      Yet his job as construction manager demanded it. This very job allowed him to provide Cassie with anything she needed and then some. He would give his daughter the world if he could, and if that demanded sacrifice, he would sacrifice.

      A fact his father-in-law was quick to point out the following evening.

      “We both know without question that you are trying, that you are doing the best you can for Cassie…under the circumstances.” Hugh leaned into the restaurant table toward Grant, while the murmur of voices filled the air around them.

      “I appreciate that,” Grant answered as a prickle of apprehension raced along his spine. Perhaps it was the way that Hugh reached for Dorothy’s hand, as if to reassure her or maybe gain support. Perhaps it was the way that Dorothy would not meet Grant’s gaze, but instead nervously toyed with the linen napkin. Or maybe it was the unbidden memory of how they had pushed him away during Catherine’s illness. Whatever, Grant suddenly wished he hadn’t told them he was going to be in town for business. He should have dissuaded them from driving up from San Diego to meet him for dinner.

      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