One Of A Kind Dad. Daly Thompson

      Her expression changed. “Sure,” she said bitterly. “I knew there was a catch. No, thank you. I don’t need a job that badly.”

      “Not living in this house,” he said. Exasperation rose in him, too, in response to her implication. “There’s an apartment over the carriage house—Jesse used to live there. You can stay there tonight and check it out.”

      “I’d be very glad to take the housekeeping job,” she said. Her lips were drawn and white. “But not a live-in job.”

      “I’m afraid,” he added, even more determined now, “that I’ll have to insist on the housekeeper living on the premises. With all these kids, she can’t help but be a housemother, too.”

      “Thank you, but I’m going home, and tomorrow I’ll look for a job that won’t require us to live in.” She started toward the door.

      “Think about Jonathan. Do it for him.”

      She spun toward him and pushed back her hair. “I think about nothing but Jonathan,” she said. “And I think about how I’m never going to let him fall under the spell of a man who’s all nice and charming at first and then…”

      When she pushed back her hair, Daniel saw the scar on her forehead—a jagged scar than ran from her temple to just above her eyebrow. It wasn’t a fresh wound, but it was too recently healed to have been the result of a childhood accident. A car wreck, maybe, or a serious fall on the ice, but somehow he didn’t think so. A blow from her deceased husband? A recent boyfriend? Daniel’s protective instincts boiled up inside him. Where had her son been when this happened to her?

      “Then what?” he asked, saying it as casually as a shop clerk might say, “Anything else?” And all the while, his gut clenched and twisted, just as if the young, suspicious Daniel was struggling to get loose.

      Her lips tightened. “Nothing. Goodbye.”

      “The carriage house door has a lock. The apartment door has a lock. You’ll be safe, and Jonathan will be right next door. A night in a good bed, a hot shower, one of Jesse’s breakfasts, and you’ll be in much better shape for job-hunting.”

      She hesitated, turned back, searched his face, and thank God, she must have seen only the calm adult Daniel. Or she’d thought about the good bed, the hot shower, a big breakfast. But he had a feeling she was seeing it for Jonathan, not for herself.

      She loved her son, and he loved her. She could have faked it, but a child couldn’t. That, to Daniel, was the key to what she was as a person—a caring human being, a woman who’d somehow lost control of her life.

      All at once she seemed to deflate. The embarrassment and anger were gone, and resignation took their place. “One night,” she said. “And Jonathan may spend the night with Nick.”

      Daniel’s face still felt tight. “Fine,” he said. “Jesse has the carriage house keys. You can give Jonathan the good news. I’ll stay out of your way.” He stalked toward the door, then turned back to face her. “The job is yours if you want it.” He glanced at the coffee table. “Don’t forget your pie.”

      It was a relief to turn his back on her startled face. When he got to his room, he sank onto the bed. It hadn’t been a pretty scene, but he’d gotten the result he wanted. Lilah would spend the night in the carriage house instead of her car, and Jonathan would be safe and warm and surrounded by boys who were delighted to have him there, especially Nick, who needed one more little leap of faith to help the dreamcatcher do its work.

      Lilah’s scar lingered in Daniel’s thoughts, entered into his dreams and then kept him awake until the midnight call that meant he had to throw on clothes, alert Jesse that it was his watch and speed to the Dupras farm, where Maggie, the prize sow, had gone into labor.

      A woman in distress always got him up and running, even when she was a pig.

      WITH A FEELING THAT she was falling into a trap, Lilah made her way through the darkness to her car to retrieve the big trash bag into which she’d thrown her clothes before leaving Whittaker. She took note of the silver van and bright red pickup parked where a carriage would once have sat, then slowly climbed the stairs to the living quarters.

      She unlocked the door, stepping inside to find a self-contained apartment, clearly a man’s world, but neat and clean. No coachman had ever lived in such splendor. Lilah set down her modest bag of possessions and put the wedge of pie next to the bed. She was stunned by all that had happened in just a few hours. She’d broken her own promise to herself and had put her life and Jonathan’s into someone else’s hands, even if it was only for a night. What had she been thinking?

      Slowly she went toward the door that had to lead to the bathroom, opened it and looked inside. For the first time in two weeks, she could take a shower!

      Giddy with excitement, she dug out her toiletries and arranged them on the granite counter, stripped off her clothes and turned on the water. She stepped under the steaming spray and let out a deep sigh of pleasure.

      The water streamed through her hair, over her shoulders, down her back. She reveled in it, washing away all her worries, if only for a few minutes. She poured shampoo into her hand and lathered it into her hair. It smelled faintly of flowers. Flowers in the rain. She wanted to stay in the shower until everything was all right again.

      The bathroom was warm when she stepped out, wrapped herself in a towel and looked in the mirror. She looked different, she felt different. Something buzzed through her body, making her feel alive again. With a start, she realized that what she was feeling was hope.

      Chapter Three

      Lilah woke early, more rested than she’d felt in years. She took another shower and spent a few minutes styling her hair as well as she could without a hair dryer—she’d forgotten hers, and why would an ex-marine with a buzz cut have a hair dryer? A swish of mascara, a bit of powder on her nose, lip gloss.

      She didn’t want Daniel’s charity. He’d given her and her son shelter for the night. She had to pay him back, and she’d figured out how she might do it.

      She dug into her bag of clothes and searched for something relatively clean and not as wrinkled as the sundress she’d taken off the night before. Tan trousers and a pale-blue shirt were the best she could do. Leaving the apartment in perfect order, she set off toward the main house.

      Daniel’s big silver van was still in its spot, but the little red pickup was gone. She stepped through the dewy grass toward the house where Jonathan slept now, happier than he’d been in weeks.

      Shivering in the chill of a June morning in Vermont, Lilah approached the kitchen door to find it locked. Inside, she could hear Aengus barking. In trying to surprise them, she’d probably awakened the whole household.

      She spent a minute biting her lower lip, then circled the building, wondering which room was Nick’s. When she saw a Red Sox pennant taped to a window, she smiled. That was a clue.

      She tapped on the window and called Jonathan’s name, softly at first, then a little louder. Apparently even Aengus couldn’t wake up these boys.

      A tousled blond head appeared at last, and Jonathan raised the window. “Mom?”

      “Good morning,” she said, smiling at him. “Unlock the kitchen door for me, okay? I want to surprise everybody and cook breakfast.”

      A second tousled head appeared. “Can we help?” Nick asked.

      “You really want to?” she whispered. “You don’t want to go back to sleep?”

      “I’m not sleepy anymore,” Jonathan said.

      “Me, either,” Nick agreed, looking both proud and surprised. “I slept all the way through the night.”

      “What great news!” Lilah said. “Okay, meet me at the kitchen door and we’ll get to work.”

      They met her