“Me, too.” Lynnie had been too bighearted and too important to die. How could she leave him, now, when he needed her more than he’d ever needed anyone in his life? What was he supposed to do without her straightforward advice and guidance?
“How’s life been treating you, Renata?” he asked, trying to get out of his head and away from his troubles—for a few minutes.
“Life’s good, Click.” She smiled.
“I’m glad.” He grinned. He wanted only good things for her. He could count the positive forces in his life on one hand. Renata Boone was one of them. “Stonewall Crossing?”
“Growing.” She shrugged, laughing. “Thanks to my brothers, all settled family men. Toben, too.”
His brow shot up. Tandy’s twin had been more inclined to take things one night at a time. “Toben? That’s hard to believe.”
She nodded. “I know. Boy, do I know. But it’s true. And he’s happy. What about you?”
Happiness had always been a foreign concept to Click. But he was trying. He had a very good reason to try. A reason he needed to collect from Widow Riley before all hell broke loose. “Good,” he forced the word out.
Tandy.
Desperation gripped him. She didn’t deserve to have this sprung on her—like it had been sprung on him.
“Better get out there,” he said, catching Renata’s confused look before he pushed through the kitchen door and down the hall.
He spied Widow Riley the same time Tandy did, and froze. In the week since little Pearl’s mother had placed her in his arms and left, since he’d learned he was a father, Click felt like he’d been driving ninety miles an hour down an endless pitch-black highway. Now Click realized that highway led him here, toward a horrible, inescapable collision. When Widow Riley had offered to rock Pearl while she slept, he didn’t resist. Widow Riley had experience and confidence, two things he lacked when it came to babies. But seeing the old woman rock his baby girl, while Tandy approached—wearing her sweetest smile—had his stomach in knots.
“Who is this little doll?” Tandy asked.
Click braced for impact. He forced himself to move, to think, to remain calm. He’d loved Tandy since he was seven years old. It was one of the few constants in his life. That didn’t mean she gave a damn about him. Still, his daughter’s presence, her age, was bound to wound her deeply.
“This little angel is Pearl,” Widow Riley said, still rocking. “Isn’t she precious?”
Tandy placed her tray on the side table and crouched by the rocking chair. “She is that.”
Click looked at his daughter. She was beautiful. She was also small, fragile and just as confused by his presence as he was by hers. The difference was, he was supposed to be responsible for Pearl.
“How old is she?” Tandy asked, her finger tracing one round cheek.
Widow Riley looked at him for the answer.
“Fourteen months.” Click cleared his throat, his heart shuddering.
Tandy jumped up and knocked the tray, sending the remaining cake plates to the ground. He stooped to help her when Pearl started to wail. Pearl—his daughter and his obligation. He reached awkwardly for the baby girl, her slight weight in his arms still alien.
As far as babies went, she was pretty easy. She didn’t cry often, and when she did, a few pats on the back seemed to calm her. A fact Click was thankful for. Chances were, he’d fought back more tears this week than Pearl had. He held her now, whispering to her softly, fully aware that all eyes were on him.
Again.
Seemed like his branch of the Hales couldn’t turn up in Fort Kyle without causing an uproar. Not him so much, but his parents. This time, it was on him. Not that he gave a damn about what these people thought—not at the moment. The only person he owed any explanation to was on her knees, cleaning up cake and china from Lynnie’s hardwood floors.
He’d imagined a dozen scenarios for their reunion. None of them included a funeral or a baby. Shame burned his face and neck. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Tandy. He couldn’t.
“She’s yours?” Renata asked, kneeling to help Tandy.
He nodded, his throat too tight to speak.
The congratulations that followed were a surprise. For years, his presence had been greeted with judgment and gossip. He was no longer a child, but history had his defenses up. Lynnie had been his champion, shushing the whispers and gossip his sudden arrival on her doorstep was sure to kick up. What he wouldn’t give to have her here now.
Never in his life had he felt so damn alone.
Pearl hiccuped, sniffed and burrowed against his shoulder. He held her, his hand spanning the width of her back as he cradled her close. “It’s okay, Pearl,” he whispered, patting her.