Tori turned onto the street that led to the hospital. “When I didn’t hear from him for the next three days, I gave him a call. He ripped me up one side and down the other—pretty much accused me of having an affair, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. That was when I knew it was over. I came home two weeks later with divorce papers. End of story.”
Tori pulled into the hospital parking lot. How trivial it all sounded in the retelling—two proud, stubborn people who’d had a misunderstanding and couldn’t forgive each other. But at the time it hadn’t been trivial at all. It had been like the end of the world.
“And the man?” Lauren spoke as if she already knew. “Who was he?”
Tori pulled into a parking spot, turned off the engine, and unfastened her seat belt. “Congressman Garn Prescott, of course—your father.”
* * *
After Natalie’s phone call Sheriff Abner Sweeney had driven back to town to pick up his wife. Bethel sat beside him now, her plump body rigid, her narrow-lipped mouth fixed in a straight line. She’d agreed to go with Abner. But he could sense her inner struggle. She had cast her daughter out for her sin. Now righteous judgment warred with compassion and motherly love.
Bethel, a preacher’s only daughter, had grown up with her father’s ironclad values. She’d raised her children as she had been raised, never dreaming that she’d one day be faced with an agonizing choice like this one.
“So Vonda and the baby are all right?” she asked Abner for perhaps the third time.
“That’s what Natalie told me.”
“But she doesn’t know her husband’s dead?”
“That’s what I understand. Natalie said it was our place to tell her.”
“You tell her, then. You’re used to doing things like that.”
“Fine, I’ll tell her. But you need to be there.” Abner was already wondering how Ralph had died. Natalie hadn’t offered any details. Had Vonda’s husband perished fighting the blaze? Or . . . but no, that didn’t make sense. Why on earth would Ralph set fire to his employer’s barn—especially if he couldn’t make it out of the barn in time to save his own life?
Ralph’s pickup sat in the graveled driveway, in front of Natalie’s SUV. The old rust bucket wasn’t fit for anything but scrap. He could sell it and give Vonda the money toward a decent car. Lord knows, she was going to need it.
Strange that Ralph wouldn’t have driven to fight the fire. Covering the distance on foot would have wasted precious minutes. Had somebody else picked him up? Or had he walked to the barn before the fire started?
For now, those questions would have to wait. Abner had a job to do, but he was also a father. His helpless, grieving daughter needed him, and he would be there for her.
Natalie came out onto the stoop as they pulled up. She hadn’t been friendly to Abner since that mess with Beau last spring. But at least she’d come when Vonda needed help.
“Your daughter and the baby seem fine,” she said before they could speak. “But just to be sure, you’ll want to get them checked out by a real doctor, at the hospital.”
“Thank you,” Abner said. “I’ve been wondering about Ralph. How did he—”
“They found his body after the fire was out. That’s all I know.”
“And they don’t know what started it?”
“You’ll have to ask the fire crew. Right now, your daughter needs you—and I need to go.” She strode out to her vehicle. By the time she drove away, Bethel had already hurried inside. Abner followed her.
Vonda, looking so young and scared that it almost broke his heart, was sitting up in bed, clutching her baby in her arms. She was wearing a clean nightgown, and the sheets looked as if they’d been changed. But his daughter’s face was pale, her hair plastered in damp strings around her face. She was gazing down at her infant son, as if she had no idea what to do with him.
Bethel was bustling around the room, straightening this and that, avoiding eye contact with her daughter. His wife would come around, Abner thought. It just might take some time.
“Hello, Daddy.” Vonda managed a wan smile. “Would you like to hold my baby? His name is Ralph—Ralph Junior.”
Abner took his grandson and cradled him close. The pink, puckered face, flattened nose, and tiny, waving hands tugged at his heartstrings—a familiar ache that felt strangely sweet.
Abner knew he wasn’t the best man in the world. He’d skated the edge of dishonesty more times than he liked to think about. But he loved his family. The instant bond with this little boy was like the closing of a lock. Whatever happened, he vowed, he would protect this child and see that he and his mother never wanted for anything. He’d been wrong about a lot of things, like letting Bethel banish their daughter. But nothing could be more right than the fierce love he felt for this small, new life. In every way it made him want to be a better man.
Vonda looked up at him. “Daddy, where’s Ralphie? He’s supposed to be here.”
Abner shook his head, knowing he had to face the hurt in her eyes.
“Has something happened to him?” Her voice broke. “Is that why you and Mama are here?” Her gaze widened as the truth struck her. “No!” she whispered. Then her voice broke into a keening wail. “No! Please, God, not Ralphie! No! No!”