The Road Not Taken (The Daddy Diaries)

by Jackie Braun

  “I know you don’t want to fail at marriage, and … and I can say from a personal standpoint that I think kids deserve two parents under the same roof whenever practical or possible. But if you don’t love him, if he makes you so damned miserable, Caro, your son is going to wind up miserable, too.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then why?”

  “You don’t understand. If I don’t go back, I won’t see my son. At least not every day. I’ll lose him to Truman. And his mother. I won’t let that humorless, judgmental old snob raise my child.”

  “Custody will be for a judge to decide.”

  Caro shook her head. “Every judge in town knows the Wendells. I’m pretty sure every judge in Vermont does. And they’ve benefited from the Wendells’ generous campaign contributions over the years.”

  “The law is supposed to be impartial,” Jake said, even though he knew that wasn’t always the case. Deep pockets had a way of skewing verdicts and judgments.

  Caro apparently knew it, too. “I haven’t got the money to fight him, Jake.”

  “But I do.”

  His words seemed to echo over the frozen earth as she gaped at him.

  “The department’s payout was more than generous, especially since I’ve invested it wisely.” He tilted his head to one side, considering. “Well, other than the inn. That’s a gamble. Who knows if it will ever pay off?”

  “It will. You’ll make it shine again.” But that wasn’t why Caro straightened in her seat to study him. Good God. Jake meant it. He was absolutely serious when he said he would bankroll her legal fees. Of the dozens of thoughts and questions buzzing in her head, the one she gave voice to was: “Why would you do that?”

  “I know how it feels to lose a child.”

  His answer surprised her almost as much as his offer. “I didn’t think … didn’t realize you and Miranda had—”

  “We didn’t.” A muscle worked in his jaw before he continued. “Miranda and I didn’t get to fight over custody. She made sure of that with an out-of-state abortion just before our divorce was final.”

  “My God. Jake, I’m so—”

  He cut her off again. “Me, too. I wake up every day sorry that my son or daughter never got a chance to draw breath.” He reached for her hands then and squeezed them through the leather of his gloves and the knitted wool of her mittens. “If you want to fight for your son, Caro, I’ll help you do it.”

  His offer was almost too good to be true, which was why she hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “Because of my reputation back in Buffalo?”

  “Of course not.” But then she reconsidered her hasty reply. “If Truman and his mother got wind of the incident, Jake, they would use it, no holds barred. You and your family could very well wind up in the media spotlight all over again.”

  It was just what he’d moved to Vermont to avoid. She expected him to back down. What he said was: “Who says he’ll find out I’m the one funding your lawyer bills?”

  “But …” For a moment, she’d thought Jake was offering more than his financial help. Attraction aside, why would he want to take on a ready-made family? Especially when it was clear he was still grieving his unborn child. She tried on a smile. “Thanks. I’ll need to think about it.”

  “Okay. It’s not a limited-time offer. Let me know when you decide.” He slapped the reins against Bess’s wide back. “Giddyap, girl.” To Caro, he said, “Your car should be around the next curve.”

  The ride back to the inn was accomplished in silence, and no wonder, given all that already had been said.

  Caro’s mind was humming. She couldn’t accept Jake’s money, other than as a loan. It was an option she hadn’t thought of before, knowing that no bank would consider her a good risk with a part-time job and little else to recommend her.

  She’d seen nothing from her parents’ estate. Most of it had gone to settle bills and other debts. The small amount she’d received from the sale of their house after taxes and the remaining balance they’d owed, she’d used for her wedding, considering it her dowry. At the time, she’d refused to go to Truman as a pauper, especially given his mother’s opinion of her. Now she bitterly regretted her decision.

  She and Jake had rescued both of her bags from her car, which was still all but buried in the snow. The road had yet to be plowed, as well. Which meant time was ticking. Truman had given her a reprieve before he went to file the legal paperwork, but for her own peace of mind, she had to be on her way to Burlington as soon as possible.

  The inn came into view. It really was lovely, Caro thought, taking a moment to admire not only the bones of the building, but the scenery. Once Jake’s renovations were complete, the place wouldn’t hurt for business, whatever the season. Of that, she was certain.

  She turned to tell him as much when a snowball caught him smack in the middle of his chest. It was then that she spied the children and their parents standing amid the towering maples and pines.

  “Riley did it! Riley did it!” Jillian danced in place as much as her bulky, lavender snowsuit allowed.

  “Son, how many times have I told you not to do that?” Dean began. His voice was surprisingly stern until he added, “If you’re going to lob a snowball at someone you aim higher. Like this.” He bent down, scooped up some snow and fired off a shot that took off Jake’s hat.

  “Tell me you didn’t do that.” Jake’s tone was lethal.

  “Oh, I did that, brother. I did that.” Dean’s grin was as wide and as childlike as his preschool-aged son’s was.

  “Do it again, Daddy!” Riley encouraged, clapping his mitten-covered hands together in excitement.

  “We’re in for it now,” Bonnie said, but she was smiling, too. And no wonder given the hard-packed sphere of white in her hand. With an unholy shriek, she let it fly, knocking the knit cap clean off her husband’s head.

  “Whose side are you on?” he demanded comically as he plucked his hat from the snow and slapped it against his thigh.

  “I’m on Caro’s and Jilly’s, of course. Come on, Caro. Hop down.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “Guys versus girls?”

  “Only if you big, strapping hunks think you’re up to it,” she taunted.

  “What’s the prize this time?” Dean wanted to know. His expression turned lecherous.

  Jake’s gaze wasn’t on his brother. He was watching her. Caro felt her face begin to heat and was relieved when Bonnie replied, “How about losers make the winners hot cocoa and serve it to them in front of the fire?”

  “Fine by me,” Jake said on a shrug. “Caro knows how I prefer mine.”

  She ignored the heat that shimmied up her spine and concentrated on his presumption that her team would lose. “Talk about being pompous.”

  “We’ll see.” She was too busy watching him wink to realize he’d scooped up the remains of the snowball that had struck him in the chest. Before she knew it he’d given her a “face wash” with it and was hopping down from the sleigh.

  “This means war,” she declared.

  The next thing Caro knew, they had divided into a pair of teams and snowballs were flying all over the place. The women and Jillian were hunkered down behind a fallen tree. While Jillian packed ammunition, Caro and Bonnie went on the offensive.

  “What in the heck was that?” Bonnie demanded between giggles as one of Caro’s snowballs hit the ground nowhere near its intended target.

  “I’m a bit rusty. It’s been a while.”

  “Well, get un-rusty and fast. I’m not serving Dean hot cocoa today. That man’s ego is big enough already.” The insult, however, was delivered with affection.

  “We’re holding our own,” Caro replied as a snowball disintegrated on the tree just behind her.

  “Oh, yeah. You think so? Then I have just one question for you.”

  “What?”

  “How does Jake take his cocoa?”

  That spurred her into action. “Who is that hiding behind the rear of the sle
igh?” she asked.

  “I think it’s Dean, although it’s hard to tell since he left off his hat and they both have the same hair color. Feel free to blast away.”

  “Just don’t hit Riley,” Jillian said sincerely. “He can’t help it that he’s a boy.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Caro vowed.

  “Your best hasn’t done us much good so far,” Bonnie groused.

  “True, but I have a feeling this will.” She whipped off her hat and waved it in the air like a flag of surrender as she stood. “Wait. Don’t shoot. Please, don’t shoot.”

  Jake appeared from his hiding spot. “What’s wrong?”

  “This.” The snowball left her hand at lightning speed. Too bad her aim still stank. It struck the ground five feet to his left. But while he stood there gaping and incredulous, Jillian and Bonnie pelted him. With a two-fingered salute, he crumpled into the snow.

  From his prone position, Jake told Dean and Riley, “It’s up to you guys now.”

  They gave it their best, but then went down in defeat, mostly because Riley wanted to switch sides.

  “You can’t switch sides midwar,” Caro heard Dean tell the little boy. “Besides, they’re girls.”

  “They’re winning, Daddy.”

  “I’m not raising a fool,” Bonnie yelled. “Our son wants to be with the winners.”

  “Can we call a cease-fire?” Dean wanted to know.

  “Only if it still comes with you guys serving us hot cocoa.”

  “Give it up, Dean. Even Riley knows we’re done for.” Jake stood and brushed the worst of the snow from his clothes.

  Caro laughed, feeling younger and more carefree than she had in months … years. It wasn’t all the result of the spontaneous snowball fight, she knew. It was Jake, these feelings he inspired and, of course, his offer.

  Hope, that was indeed what this holiday was about.

  While Bonnie herded a sullen Riley and jubilant Jillian back to the inn—with a rain check on the sleigh ride since they were too cold now to stay out much longer—Dean saw to Caro’s bags. That left Caro to help Jake take Bess and the sleigh around back. Once the horse was relieved of her harness, rubbed down and settled into her stall with some feed, they started for the house.

  “I can’t believe you cheated,” Jake muttered.

  “I didn’t cheat. I employed strategy.”

  “You tricked me.”

  “Yes. But you fell for it. Still, I’m sorry.”

  “Liar. You’re not the least bit sorry.”

  “No.” Laughter shook her shoulders. “You know what they say—all’s fair in love and war.”

  They both sobered, and even though they’d reached the back entrance, they remained outside on the steps, Caro one stair higher and leaning against the rail.

  Jake pulled the glove off his right hand and ran his bare knuckles over the slope of her cheek. “I like seeing you like this.”

  “How?” she whispered.

  “Happy, laughing and not so damned desperate. You’re beautiful, you know. Especially when you smile.”

  His chin angled up and he leaned toward her, slowly. Giving in to desire mere inches at a time. They shouldn’t. Couldn’t. Even so, Caro’s chin angled down on a sigh. His mouth was a whisper away from hers when the back door opened. Riley stood there in his stocking feet, hair sticking up at odd angles from the hat he’d been wearing.

  “Are you going to kiss her, Uncle Jake?” the little boy wanted to know.

  “N-no,” he sputtered. “I was … Caro has a lash in her eye. I was just seeing if I could get it out.”

  “Oh.” Riley nodded, satisfied with the explanation. Caro expelled the breath she’d been holding until he added, “Daddy said you were going to kiss her.”

  Laughter rang out from behind him. Caro felt mortified. Jake looked ready to explode. Riley was grinning from ear to ear. And when they stepped inside, Dean wore the same expression.

  His brother’s delight was short-lived. Doreen came into the back entryway with her hands fisted on her hips and a look of displeasure turning down the corners of her mouth.

  “What’s this Bonnie tells me about hot cocoa?”

  “We waged a snowball war,” Jillian said as she lined up the boots on the mat by the door.

  “I lost. Next time, I don’t want to be on Daddy and Uncle Jake’s team,” Riley whined.

  “Smart boy,” Doreen replied, patting one of his rosy cheeks.

  “Now we have to make hot chocolate and serve it to them and everything,” Riley wailed.

  “No being a sore loser. Come on now.” She clapped her hands together. “Let’s get to it.”

  “You’re not going to make the cocoa, are you?” Bonnie asked from behind Doreen.

  “No.” The older woman pursed her lips. “In fact, now that I think of it, I’m entitled to a little pampering myself. So, it was men against women?”

  “That’s right.”

  Turning, Doreen hollered, “Martin!”

  “Uh-oh. Dad’s not going to be very happy with us,” Jake muttered.

  “Speak for yourself,” Dean groused. “I’m not the one who went all soft at the sight of a pretty lady.”

  “I’m not sure how to take that,” Bonnie muttered.

  “You know what I mean, hon.”

  “Uh-huh.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Be sure to put at least half a dozen mini-marshmallows in my cup.”

  “Oh, and have him add a splash of peppermint schnapps,” Caro supplied helpfully. “Jake has a bottle in the kitchen cupboard.”

  “Ooh, I like that idea,” Bonnie said, following a grumbling Dean down the hall. The kids tagged behind them, which left Jake and Caro alone amid the dripping boots and soggy outerwear.

  She sat down on the bench that stretched along one wall and tried to remove her boots. Anything to keep her mind off Jake … and his mouth … and the kiss they shared the night before … and that almost kiss on the steps a moment earlier.

  “Here. Let me help you with that,” he offered when she couldn’t quite manage the zipper down the front of the boots.

  Jake knelt down in front of her and loosened the ice-encrusted zippers. He didn’t stop there, though. He pulled the boots off her feet, set them aside and then gave the arches of her feet a slow once-over that had her toes threatening to curl. Even through two pairs of thick socks, Caro swore she could feel the warmth of his hands.

  “Th-thanks,” she stammered. “I believe the deal was hot cocoa, you know. Not a foot rub.”

  “Consider this a bonus.” He tilted his head to the side. “Dean got it right, you know.”

  Her breathing hitched. “Oh?”

  “I do have a soft spot where you’re concerned.”

  “Jake.” His name came out as a breathy whisper.

  “I can’t explain it, Caro.” He shrugged and rose to his feet. “I’m a facts kind of guy. I think that’s why I went into police work in the first place. I go where the evidence leads me. But in this case …” He shrugged again.

  Caro rose, as well. “I’m not a case, Jake.”

  “I know that. Believe me, I know.” He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck in frustration. “I guess what I’m trying to say, and botching it badly, is that the way I’m acting, well, it’s very out of character for me. Like outside on the steps just now. I wanted to kiss you. I would have, too, if Riley hadn’t opened the door.

  “And last night, in the kitchen, and today on the sleigh ride, I told you things I don’t usually talk about. Things I don’t share with anyone.”

  “I feel privileged.”

  “Privileged,” he repeated, and shook his head.

  “What I mean is—” she blew out a breath “—I feel it, too, Jake. Everything has happened so quickly between us. I feel like I did in my car while I was waiting for the skidding to stop. Where does this stop?” She motioned between the two of them.

  “And if it doesn’t stop, where does it go? Where can it go?” He s
eemed to be posing the question to himself as much as Caro.

  “Jake! Get your worthless butt in the kitchen!” Dean hollered from the hallway. “The hot chocolate’s not going to make itself, and Dad is claiming his role is purely supervisory since he got dragged into this mess.”

  “Be there in a minute.”

  “Now!” Dean howled with the authority of a drill sergeant.

  “This conversation isn’t over,” Jake said to Caro as he left.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MCCABE FAMILY TRADITION dictated that the men cleaned up after holiday meals since the women generally did all of the preparations. Today was no exception. Caro felt a little guilty since Doreen hadn’t allowed her to help out in any fashion. So, when she noticed first Martin and then Dean duck out of the kitchen, she decided to check on Jake’s progress.

  He was at the sink, up to his elbows in soapsuds. A stack of dirty pots and pans was to his left while clean plates were drying in the rack to his right.

  “It looks like you’ve been deserted,” she said.

  “Payback for the hot-chocolate incident,” he grumbled with a shrug.

  “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

  “Depends.” He squinted sideways at her. “Is it working?”

  “Maybe a little.” She picked up a dish towel from the counter and began drying the plates.

  “You’d better not let my mother catch you doing that.”

  Caro smiled. “I won’t.”

  They worked together in silence. She dried all of the plates and put them away, freeing up the rack for the serving dishes and finally for the pots and pans that he washed. The last piece of flatware had been returned to the drawer, and Jake was wiping down the counters when she decided to take a seat at the table. He joined her a moment later.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. It was the least I could do, since I was sort of at fault.”

  A grunt served as his reply. Then, “You look nice, by the way.”

  “It feels good to be wearing something other than a robe or ruined wool.”

  After returning with her bags, she’d changed into fresh clothes—a flowered silk blouse and a slim skirt that she’d paired with peep-toe pumps. The outfit was a little fancy for the occasion, even if it was Easter Sunday, but everything in her bag was on the fancy side.