The House That Love Built

by Jean Brashear

  “I love you, too—both of you. You be good now, and eat your supper so I don’t get into too much trouble with your mother, okay?”

  They giggled, then raced outside.

  Betsey followed them but stopped at the front door and glanced toward the bedroom. “Perhaps we should talk on the porch.”

  Malcolm felt as though he’d been called to the principal’s office. He closed the door behind them, prepared for her disapproval.

  But she surprised him. “Oh, Daddy—” She rose to her toes and gave him a quick hug. “I’m so sorry.”

  When she stepped back, he could see tears in her eyes. He was shocked…and more than a little grateful. “Why, Bets?”

  “She doesn’t want the baby, does she? And you don’t love her, at least not the way you loved Mother. But you adore children. This must be so hard for you.”

  He was stunned by how much she understood. “Did she tell you she didn’t want it?”

  “She didn’t have to. What are you going to do?”

  He shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

  “But you want it, don’t you?”

  He was grateful for the chance to talk about it. “Yeah. I do.”

  “You’re a wonderful father. Grandfather, too—even when you’re ruining their supper.”

  He clasped her small hand in his own, thinking how like her mother she could be when she wasn’t feeling the bite of being the last child left. “What about you, Bets? You don’t seem very happy to me lately. And it’s not just Ria—I noticed it before she ever showed up. You and Peter having problems?”

  She was her mother’s child in many ways, tilting her chin upward though her eyes sparked with pain. “Marriage isn’t always a cake walk.”

  “Yeah.” But sometimes it’s heaven and you still lose it. “Anything I can do?”

  She leaned into his side, sliding her arms around his waist, her voice strained. “No. I simply have to figure some things out.”

  He squeezed her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her hair. “After you get your life straightened out, want to see what you can do with mine?”

  Her giggle was shaky. “I guess you offered to marry her.”

  “Yeah. Not that it did any good—how did you guess?”

  “Because you’re the most honorable man in the world. You’d do the right thing, no matter what your heart wanted.”

  Her faith was touching, but he couldn’t admire his track record. Now, more than ever, he questioned if he’d ever understood what the right thing was. But he simply rocked her in his arms and said, “Thank you.”

  “So what now?”

  “I have no idea. She’s determined to have an abortion.”

  “Oh, Daddy—” Betsey pulled away, her gaze troubled.

  “It’s her choice, I know. She’s hit hardest, but—”

  “It’s your child, too.”

  “Yeah.” On the lawn, his granddaughters waved enthusiastically. He summoned a smile for them. “Maybe I’m too old to be raising another child.”

  “You’ll never get old.”

  “I really believe I have a lot to give.”

  “Of course you do. And I’ll help you.”

  Malcolm was deeply touched by her offer. She wasn’t the mother he wanted for this baby, but his first choice wasn’t available. “Thanks, sweetheart. That means a lot to me.” He nodded toward the street. “The natives appear to be getting restless.”

  The girls had climbed into the car and plastered their faces against the glass, making streaks all over the inside.

  Malcolm laughed. Betsey sighed, then chuckled. “Little monkeys.”

  “They’re beautiful children, Bets.” He squeezed her shoulders again. “You’ve done a great job with them.” He looked down at her. “Are you mad that I took them to see Benjy?”

  She hesitated, then shook her head. “He’s not at fault. And he’s probably had a rough life, hasn’t he?” Her condemnation of her sister was plain on her features.

  “So has his mother. We still don’t know all that she’s been through.”

  “She brought it on herself.”

  “Oh, Bets—”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t stop thinking how different everything would be if she hadn’t—” She sighed. “You and Mother would still be together.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “I’d like to believe so. But maybe we weren’t as golden as I thought. I didn’t—” He shrugged. “Never mind. Water under the bridge.” He glanced down at her again. “We can’t give up. I don’t want to lose Vic—Ria again.”

  Betsey’s jaw hardened. “She never brought you anything but grief, Daddy.”

  He clasped his hands on her shoulders. “That’s not true. You have to remember the good times, sweetheart. We’ll find more of them.”

  Her eyes darkened. “She’ll disappoint you again. She’ll hurt all of us.” Defiance blazed. “I can’t forget what she’s done.”

  “She made a terrible mistake, Bets, but your mother and I let her down, too. You paid a price, as well.”

  “It was a horrible time, Daddy. For you and Mother, for me, for—”

  “For her, as well,” he reminded. “Families forgive, sweetheart. None of us is perfect. She’s still my daughter. Your sister. And she’s been so alone.” He leaned forward. “Just give her a chance, Bets. Please?”

  “I’ll try, Daddy. It’s all I can promise.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Bets. I love you.”

  She turned back to him, this daughter who had spent her life attempting to please him. He wished he could convince her to cherish herself instead.

  “I love you, too. And if you—” She glanced at the door behind him. “If you need to talk, I’m always here.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. I’m going to work this out somehow. You know me, the deal maker. I’ll come up with something.” Then he smiled, even though he didn’t feel it. “But if you have any brilliant inspirations, speak up.”

  She seemed sad. “I will. I love you.” She blew him a kiss and departed.

  Long after she left, Malcolm stood on his front porch in the growing darkness and pondered what to say to the woman inside.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cleo shifted the bag to her left hand as she reached to unlock the shop. Before she could slip the key inside, Sandor jerked the door open.

  “Don’t you ever go home?” she muttered.

  One eyebrow lifted. “The advantages of living nearby.”

  She peered closer. “You look terrible. What’s happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Sandor.” She restrained him when he would have turned away. “You’re disturbed.”

  He shrugged. “Restless night.”

  There was more to it, she was sure, but just then he stood aside and gestured toward the storeroom.

  Then it hit her. “You’ve finished.”

  Sandor nodded.

  “Let me see.” She headed for the doorway of what had become his space.

  When she reached the open door, Cleo stopped, heart in her throat. “Oh. Oh.”

  In the morning’s golden light, the wood seemed to glow from within, the grain exploding with vitality, every curve alive. “I could swear she’s breathing. It’s exquisite. Oh, beyond that—I don’t have the words. Lovely. Stunning. Sandor—”

  “It is yours.”

  For a moment, what he said didn’t sink in. Then she spun around, her eyes going wide. “You don’t—I can’t—” She was stammering. “It would be wrong for me to accept such a magnificent piece. You could sell it for so much. This will be the centerpiece of your show.”

  “You do not want it?”

  “Of course I do, but—”

  “If such a time comes, perhaps I would ask to borrow it, but it is yours, now and always.”

  As she started to protest, he shook his head. “There is more to tell you.” He hesitated. “It is time, Cleo.”

  She sighed. “You’re le
aving.”

  He nodded. “It is…difficult. Being here has been a gift. I can never repay you for all you have done for me. Please do not refuse my poor gesture. It is not enough, but it is a beginning.”

  She tasted bittersweet sorrow, though she’d always known it would happen someday. She was losing a mainstay when so much of her life was a rough, rolling sea.

  “Sandor, you can’t believe you haven’t given me back as much. All that you’ve done around here—” She gestured. “And you’ve been my friend when—” The thought of not having him here every day crashed down on her. “You’ve always been there when I needed one.”

  “That will not change. I am your friend, now and ever.”

  Then don’t go, she wanted to beg. Not now. Not yet. But she didn’t give voice to the plea. “I’m glad.”

  “So you will accept this?”

  She turned to the sculpture again and saw how elegant it was, yet so sensuous, alive with such grace and power it took her breath away. She would never view it without imagining him in this room.

  “All right.” She turned back. “But I insist on loaning it to you when you have your first show. Which, I might add, should be sooner rather than later.” Here she struggled for a smile. “Provided, of course, that I approve of the security arrangements.”

  He met her grin with his own. It was Sandor who had bullied her into updating the archaic security system on the shop, who had taken one look at her locks and muttered until he had replaced them all.

  “You will call me when you need anything done around here.” His eyes made clear that it was not a question.

  If her heart hurt a little that he was moving on, that he had so much life ahead of him that she’d already lived, Cleo didn’t say it. She would endure, as she always had. “Just try refusing.”

  He lifted the bag she had dropped, gesturing for her to lead the way to the inside shop door. “How was your afternoon off? What did you and Benjy do?”

  “Malcolm showed up with Elizabeth and Marguerite, wanting to take Benjy to the park. The kids begged me to go, too.”

  “And did you?”

  Then Cleo was off and running, chattering about the things the children did, how they’d first circled each other like adversaries, then became a pack of rolling puppies. “And now we have plans for a slumber party. The kids want Malcolm to attend.”

  Sandor studied her. “And do you wish it, as well?”

  “Of course not. They’re too young to understand that it’s impossible.”

  “Poor Colin. I begin to see the problem.”

  Cleo stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “His age is not the only strike against him. I hear it in your voice. You are still in love with Malcolm.”

  “That’s ridiculous. We’re divorced, Sandor.”

  “Since when does the heart pay attention to a piece of paper?”

  “He has someone else now. He lives with her.”

  “He is spending a lot of time at your house lately.”

  “That’s for Benjy.” Cleo sniffed.

  “If you wish to believe that.” All merriment vanished. “I do not want him to hurt you. He walked away from you once.”

  “Because I asked him to go—not that it’s any of your business.” She continued before he could respond. “It wouldn’t work. Too much has happened. We’ve grown apart.”

  “You are afraid.”

  “I am not.”

  “He is not worth fighting for?”

  “He’s got a younger woman. She’s beautiful—tall and blond.”

  “You are beautiful, and you could have a younger lover, too, but you do not accept him. How do you know Malcolm does not have his own longings for you? Living together signifies nothing.”

  “I don’t intend to discuss it.”

  “If that is your wish.” But his skepticism was obvious.

  “It is.”

  The phone rang, and he said he had to go, anyway. He left, and she busied herself inside. For her to even consider seeking out Malcolm to see if he—

  No. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t know how, even if she thought that he—

  She remembered how he’d stared at her on Sunday. How he’d wanted to stay for dinner a few nights before.

  And a tiny voice in her heart whispered, Why not?

  “Look, Gramps, there’s Nana!” Benjy shouted from the tree house window that afternoon. “Nana, me and Gramps are fixing more stuff on the tree house. Come see!”

  Malcolm stopped nailing and glanced out. Cleo waved and crossed the grass, her form as willowy as the girl he’d first loved.

  “Where’s your mother, Benjy?”

  “She went to see Aunt Betsey to ask if Marguerite and Elizabeth could play.”

  Malcolm and Cleo traded startled glances, but just then Benjy hung so far out the window Malcolm had to grasp his shirt to keep him from tumbling. “Hey, sport. Hold on. Nana won’t be very happy if you fall on your head.”

  Benjy was far too excited to care. “Here, Nana. Climb on up.”

  “Oh, sweetie, it’s been a long time,” Cleo protested.

  Malcolm couldn’t help grinning. “Try the back window, Snow.”

  She laughed. Actually blushed. Malcolm hadn’t forgotten how vividly her fair skin stained with color. He waggled his eyebrows. “Where’s your sporting blood?”

  “Hush, Malcolm. We’re grandparents, for heaven’s sake.”

  But he saw the memories dance behind her eyes. She hadn’t forgotten. He never would. If this tree house could talk…

  “You’re not too old, Nana,” Benjy said earnestly. “And Gramps climbed it, so maybe you could.”

  “Well, if Gramps, ancient as he is, managed …” She laughed. “But I’m wearing a skirt.”

  Benjy turned for help.

  “We won’t peek, will we, sport?”

  “Uh-uh.” Benjy shook his head. “At what?”

  “Never mind. Wait here.” With a quick drop, Malcolm was on the ground beside her.

  Her eyes were wide and green, her expression breathless, shy as a girl’s.

  He ached to kiss her. To have her in his arms again. In his life.

  She touched his wrist, and it was all he could do not to sweep her up, bear her off to—

  He glanced away from the vision she made, fighting himself. He didn’t love Joanna, but the baby…

  Her expression dimmed. Shuttered. She stepped away.

  “Snow, I—”

  “Benjy, I only dropped by for a minute on my way back to the shop from the bank. I have to close up tonight. You and Gramps have fun.”

  “But Gramps has to leave, too, he said.”

  Cleo glanced toward Malcolm.

  “I have to meet—I, uh, have a meeting.” Joanna had called and asked to talk, but he avoided mentioning her to Cleo. They’d settled on the coffee shop near Cleo’s store, Joanna’s favorite.

  “Auntie and Grammy will still be here, and I’ll be back to tuck you in,” she said, her expression making it clear she knew exactly who he’d be joining.

  “I want Gramps to do it.”

  “Sweetheart, Gramps doesn’t live here. He has to go home to Joanna.”

  Benjy’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t like Joanna.”

  “But Gramps does.” Her voice turned cool, her green eyes shadowed.

  She’d understand if she heard the whole story, but it would hurt her so much. He had no idea what to do. “Snow—”

  She ignored him. Hugged Benjy and slipped away.

  “What’s wrong with Nana, Gramps?”

  What had he seen in her eyes? Hurt, yes. But…longing? Was it possible that after all these years—

  “You’ll be at the slumber party, right, Gramps? Joanna doesn’t need you—we do. Me and Elizabeth and Marguerite. And Nana and Mom. We need you more.”

  Do you, Cleo? Do you want me as much as I’m beginning to realize I want you?

  And, God help us, what do we do about it now?

>   Chapter Fourteen

  Sandor was sizing up the tools he’d have to pack, when he heard Betsey’s raised voice from inside the shop, her normally pleasant tones tense and shrill.

  Was she in trouble? He grabbed his sharpest chisel and made his way to the back door.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of running away?” Betsey challenged.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of passing judgment?” A woman’s voice that sounded—

  Familiar. His hand lowered. Betsey’s sister. They had met on one of her visits to the shop. He’d quickly realized that the woman he’d found in trouble at Joe’s had indeed been Cleo’s troubled daughter about whom he’d heard so much.

  He paused, uncomfortable listening but concerned. Would the infamous Ria harm her sibling? For Cleo’s sake, he would bide a moment to be certain.

  “It’s so easy for you,” Betsey’s words dripped with contempt. “Whip through like a hurricane, then leave everyone else to deal with the damage. You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”

  “It was six years ago, Betsey. I never meant for it to happen. Do I stay on trial forever?”

  “David’s dead. Mother and Daddy are divorced. You caused all of that.”

  “You don’t think I hurt, too?” Ria’s voice cracked. “I made a mistake—the biggest one of my whole screwed-up life. I’d sell my soul to bring him back, to return to the moment before we got into that car. I have no idea why I lived and he died—I wish I hadn’t. I know you do, too. But he’s still gone, and I can’t figure out how to make any of it better.”

  “Go away,” Betsey said. “Don’t ever come back. We were doing fine until you showed up.”

  Ria’s shoulders sank. “I can’t do that to Benjy.”

  Betsey grabbed her sister’s arm. “Leave him here. We’ll take care of him.”

  Ria jerked away. “Abandon my child? With you? You hate his guts.”

  “I don’t. He’s not to blame.”

  “But I am—right, Bets? It’s not enough that I pay every second inside my heart. I have to beg for forgiveness that you and Mother are never going to give. Only Daddy—”

  Betsey cut in. “You let Daddy alone. He’s got enough problems on his hands with Joanna and the baby. Having you hanging around only makes things worse.”