by Deb Kastner
He stared at her for a long moment, soaking in her suggestions. It wasn’t easy for him to let go.
Phoebe held his gaze. “Sorry. I’m chattering on like I’m some kind of expert in parenting. Obviously, I’m not. I have no experience whatsoever in that department.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said gruffly. “I needed to hear what you’ve been saying, even if I’m not liking it overmuch.”
“I don’t want it to seem like I’m taking sides. Well, yes, I guess I am. But at the end of the day, you’re her father. You have to go with your gut.”
“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. She’d changed tactics, but he still had the feeling she was leaning on him, trying to get him to concede to Lucy’s wishes. Her next words affirmed his suspicions.
“You know, easing up on Lucy and giving her a little room to be her own person doesn’t mean you’re not being a good father. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“Is that right?” he drawled.
Phoebe was pushing his buttons, breaking him down, and he had the feeling she knew exactly what she was doing.
“You know it is.”
Wasn’t that what he wanted, to be a good father for Lucy? But it was so hard to let her go, even just a little bit. Lucy was all he had left.
“I guess,” he mumbled, shifting his gaze to the floor.
“Does that mean Lucy can go to the dance?” Phoebe’s voice had brightened instantly, as had her expression. As if he’d be able to resist those hazel eyes. She had no idea just how much influence she really held over him. And it was probably a good thing, too.
Chance sighed and adjusted his bandana around his neck. “Yes, I suppose that’s what I’m saying. She can go. But if she breaks any of my rules…”
“She won’t.” Phoebe cheered and launched herself into Chance’s arms, hugging him tight. “Lucy is going to be so happy.”
“Yeah,” Chance agreed with half a grin, amused at her reaction and more than happy to be holding her in his arms. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell her she can go to the dance.”
“No,” Phoebe said, pulling back from him and brushing a palm down his unshaven cheek. “This particular news needs to come directly from your mouth.”
Before he thought better of it, he threaded his fingers through Phoebe’s soft hair and pulled her back to him, gently kissing her forehead before wrapping his free arm around her waist.
“What was that for?” she asked, though she didn’t pull away.
He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply, her vanilla scent making his pulse race.
“For being my anchor,” he whispered, “in a dark and stormy world.”
Chapter Twelve
STATUS UPDATE: PHOEBE YATES: There is nothing more heartwarming and attractive than seeing a man with his daughter. It just melts my heart.
JOSEPHINE HAWKINS MURPHY: A man, or this man? LOL
The Friday night of the Sadie Hawkins Dance arrived before Phoebe knew it. Her time here in Serendipity was flying by at an alarming rate. She didn’t even want to think about leaving, so she immersed herself in the present.
Much as she would like to have seen it, Phoebe hadn’t been there when Chance gave Lucy the good news. She’d wanted it to be a special father-daughter moment, and from what she’d heard from Lucy, it had gone even better than Phoebe had prayed for.
Not only had Chance given Lucy permission to attend the dance with Michael, but he’d—reluctantly—given Lucy a clothing allowance so she could buy something new to wear for the big date.
Phoebe had driven Lucy into San Antonio that Sunday after church and they’d spent a happy afternoon getting lunch and shopping for a new dress. Now that Lucy had accepted Phoebe’s presence in her life—and Chance’s life—without resentment, she’d morphed into the bubbly, giggling teenager Phoebe had always known was somewhere deep inside her.
She was thankful to be able to do something special for Lucy, and not just to ingratiate herself with the girl, either. She was genuinely starting to care for Lucy—maybe a little bit more than she should. She had to keep reminding herself that soon she’d be flying back to the East Coast and Serendipity would be nothing more than a happy memory. Going to work at Monahan’s in New York had once been her dream.
Now she knew she would be leaving her heart behind in this small Texas town.
“Shall we do your hair, or did you want to get dressed first?” Phoebe asked the beaming, blushing Lucy. They’d decided to use Phoebe’s room for preparation, and she’d locked the door just to be on the safe side.
When Chance next saw his daughter, Phoebe wanted him to be blown right out of the water. She thought Lucy might be almost as excited about pleasing her father as she was in going to the dance with Michael. Phoebe planned to stun both guys—and Lucy too, for that matter.
“What do you think I should do?” Lucy asked.
Phoebe smiled. “Go ahead and get dressed first. That way we won’t mess up your hair.”
Though Phoebe didn’t have any personal experience besides her own youth to draw from, she imagined the majority of teenage girls would take forever to get their clothes ready to go for a big dance; however, it didn’t take Lucy nearly that long to dress.
The time Lucy saved in dressing, Phoebe used to curl the girl’s soft brown hair into large ringlets and arrange it into an up-do that completely transformed Lucy from a tangle-haired tomboy into a classy, rosy-cheeked young lady. She turned Lucy away from the mirror as she worked, wanting to surprise her with the end result.
They both jumped as Chance rapped on the door.
“Aren’t you ladies done yet?” he called gruffly, though he sounded more amused than annoyed. “What are you guys doing? You’ve been in there almost an hour already.”
“And we’ll take another hour if we want to,” Phoebe informed him from behind the closed—and locked—door. “Now, go away.”
Lucy smothered a laugh.
Chance growled playfully in protest.
“Trust me, it will be worth the wait. Now go find something else to do besides bother us, or we’ll never get done.”
Phoebe waited until she heard Chance’s footsteps receding down the hallway, and then turned back to Lucy.
“Men,” she said with a shake of her head. “They just don’t understand us ladies at all, do they?”
Lucy’s eyes widened and she shook her head. Phoebe could tell she was pleased to be categorized as a lady and not a child. She silently thanked God once again for this opportunity to share in this female camaraderie with Lucy, and humbly recognized that it was something she was in a unique position to do.
Aunt Jo, for all her quirks, was a die-hard T-shirt and jeans woman. Shopping for dresses, much less preparing for fancy dates, was simply not in her nature. The older woman understood the importance of what was happening, though, and joyfully stepped aside so Phoebe and Lucy could bond. She was, Phoebe presumed, waiting in the living room with almost as much anticipation as Chance was, though with a great deal more understanding of the female mind at work.
If it had only been Chance here to navigate Lucy into the heavy waters of her teenage years—well, that was too much to think about. Probably, Lucy wouldn’t be going to the dance at all, much less dressed with all the enchantment of Cinderella going to the ball.
As for Phoebe, she felt like…
A mother.
Her breath caught and held in her throat as she explored that thought. She’d been so engrossed in her career that she’d rarely thought of settling down with a husband and children, even when she’d been seriously dating Josh.
But here, with Chance and Lucy, and even the wonderful influence of Aunt Jo, she’d been given an entirely different perspective on what the word family really meant.
Giving, taking, fighting, loving.
And she loved it—every single part of being drawn into the Hawkinses’ small-town existence.
Finished with Lucy’s hair, she applied a small dab of light ros
e gloss on Lucy’s lips to complement the rich royal blue of her dress, then stepped back to scrutinize the results.
Her breath swept in and her throat clogged with emotion. The transformation was truly complete. Lucy was a veritable princess, and she had no doubt Chance would think the same.
Phoebe glanced at her watch. The time had come. In fact, they’d finished with no time to spare. Michael was due to arrive at the house any moment now, and it was important—crucial—to both Phoebe and Lucy that Chance be the first to see his beautiful daughter and have the time he needed to fuss over her before her date arrived.
Assuming Chance had the good sense to make a fuss—ideally without prompting from Phoebe or Aunt Jo. Chance tended not to show his emotions under that stern exterior of his. Phoebe hoped that tonight would be the exception to the rule.
“Okay,” Phoebe said, smiling at the radiant young woman. “You’re all set. Are you ready to see the finished product?”
Lucy’s gaze widened in distress, and Phoebe chuckled. “Trust me, you’ll want to see this one.”
Taking Lucy by the shoulders, she led her to the door of the closet. Inside was a full-length mirror, perfect for what Phoebe had in mind. She wanted Lucy to see the whole picture, all at once.
“Okay, here we go.” Phoebe turned the door knob and opened the closet door, exposing Lucy to her own reflection.
If Lucy’s eyes had been wide before, it was nothing compared to what happened when she saw herself in the mirror. She gasped and brushed a hand down her cheek.
“Is this really me?” she whispered in awe.
Pride and joy welled up within Phoebe.
And love. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“You look beautiful,” she said, her voice husky. “Are you ready to show your father how well his tomboy daughter cleans up?”
The tinkling of Lucy’s nervous laughter sent a whole new wave of emotion through Phoebe. She mattered here. Not like it was in front of the spotlights, where no one really knew who she was, but with a family whom she cared about and who knew her and truly cared about her.
“You stay here until I announce you,” she said with a sniffle and a wavering smile.
Unlocking the door, she tiptoed down the hallway and peeked into the family room. Aunt Jo was sitting in the easy chair with her knitting. Chance was pacing back and forth across the carpet, his hands clasped behind him and a harried look on his face.
Phoebe cleared her throat, chuckling when Chance jerked back in surprise. Aunt Jo joined in, all smiles and anticipation.
“She went into the bedroom a hay-pitching, horse-riding tomboy,” Phoebe announced theatrically. “And now, I present to you the delightful, the delectable Miss Lucy Hawkins!”
She turned and made a grand gesture with her arms, expecting Lucy to use the moment to make her big entrance.
Nothing.
“Miss Lucy Hawkins,” she repeated, this time a little louder. Had Lucy not heard? Still nothing.
“Excuse me a moment,” she said as she went back down the hallway toward her bedroom. Lucy was standing frozen in the doorway, looking awkward and uncomfortable. Her hands were clenched together by her sides.
“What’s wrong, hon? This is your big moment.”
“I can’t go out there,” Lucy whispered, her voice shaky and uneven. “Not dressed like this. My dad is going to laugh at me.”
Though she knew the girl was dead serious and absolutely mortified at the prospect of having her father see her, Phoebe chuckled.
“Don’t worry about your dad, Luc. He won’t bite—and I can pretty much guarantee he’s not going to laugh at you.”
Still, Lucy hesitated.
“What he might do,” Phoebe continued with a thoughtful frown, “is meet your date at the door with a baseball bat. That is, unless you are out there to stop him.”
“Oh!” Lucy exclaimed, truly distressed. “I forgot about that.”
It was enough to get her moving. She only hesitated again when they reached the end of the hallway.
“Miss Lucy Hawkins,” Phoebe announced once again—only this time, she nudged Lucy into the family room.
“It’s about time,” Chance complained gruffly. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to—”
His statement came to an abrupt halt as he turned and took in his first glance of his daughter in all her finery.
“Luc,” he said in a choked whisper. “Can it be? What happened to my little girl? She’s all grown up.”
Lucy was blushing to the roots of her hair, and Phoebe suspected she was separated by a mere thread from bolting right out of the room. Phoebe gently nudged her forward, toward Chance.
He took Lucy’s hands and spent a long, poignant moment admiring her. Then he brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek.
“You,” he said softly, his voice full of emotion, “look just like your mother did when she was your age. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Oh, Daddy,” Lucy exclaimed as she launched herself into Chance’s arms.
He held her tight. His bright obsidian gaze met Phoebe’s, and she could see all the emotions he couldn’t otherwise express.
“Thank you,” he mouthed over the top of Lucy’s head.
Phoebe smiled and nodded. It had been her pleasure. Really.
Aunt Jo clapped her hands in delight. “Glory be, child, you’re just gorgeous. But then, I knew you would be.”
Chance and Lucy were still hugging when the doorbell rang.
Lucy tensed.
Phoebe chuckled. “I’ll get it,” she informed everyone, and this time it was Lucy thanking her with her gaze. Anything to keep her father from answering was much appreciated.
As Phoebe moved to answer the door, she offered God another silent prayer. If anyone should be thankful here, it was her. The Hawkinses had given her a gift she could never repay—the gift of family.
Chance’s heart was full as he watched his beautiful, blossoming daughter and the Avery boy posing for pictures in front of the fireplace. As with everything else that had transpired that day, photographing the young couple had been Phoebe’s idea. She’d even bought a digital camera for the occasion.
What a day. What a woman. It was one more reason to thank God for bringing Phoebe into his life—and into his family’s life.
How could a man feel so completely happy and so utterly sad at the same time?
Memories flooded through him—holding the newborn Lucy for the first time. Her first words. Her first steps. Her first day of school.
And now, her first date with a boy. Before he knew it, she would be all grown up—graduating from high school, moving out, getting married.
It was overwhelming just to think about.
Happy and sad.
He was so proud of the young lady Lucy had become.
“Okay, let’s go out onto the porch and take a couple more pictures,” Phoebe suggested brightly.
“Excellent idea,” Aunt Jo agreed.
Lucy blushed, but Michael’s face was even redder. At least Chance could enjoy the boy’s discomfort. He remembered all too well what that felt like. Lindsay’s father had put him through the wringer. He wouldn’t be a teenaged boy again for the world.
Not that he would go easy on the lad. As Lucy’s father, it was his privilege and responsibility to make sure his daughter was safe and happy.
If this boy broke her heart…
Chance followed the group out to the porch and watched as Phoebe posed the young couple on the front stairs, taking picture after picture.
Chance kept his mouth shut until Phoebe herded him into the picture.
“Let’s get a couple of shots of Lucy and Dad,” Phoebe insisted, waving Chance toward his daughter. “And then we’ll get some of the whole family. Aunt Jo, you need to step in here, as well.”
“Isn’t your roll of film just about used up yet?” he asked when Phoebe showed no signs of slowing. At this rate Michael and Lucy were never going to make it to the dance.
“It’s a digital camera, silly,” Phoebe told him. “I can keep taking pictures until my four gigabytes of memory are used up.”
He’d known that, of course. It wasn’t as if he was living in the dark ages. She was the one who wasn’t paying attention. She was obviously not taking his not-so-subtle hint.
“Michael’s mom is waiting to take them to the dance,” he commented wryly, and then waved to Sue Avery, who was behind the wheel of her minivan, watching all the activity going on in front of the house with a smile on her face.
Phoebe frowned and looked down at her camera. “I suppose you’re right.”
Chance chuckled at the grateful look Lucy flashed at him. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought Phoebe was overkilling on the picture taking.
“Straight to the high school and back home again,” Chance pronounced sternly as the young couple made their way to Michael’s mother’s minivan. “And home by eleven sharp. No excuses.”
“Dad,” Lucy moaned. “You’ve told us all of this already. Twice.”
More than that, if anyone was counting. He’d reiterated the rules at least three times to Lucy alone before Michael had even arrived at the house.
“I love you, Luc,” he called as Michael opened the door for her. Phoebe reached for his hand and squeezed it tight.
Flashing Michael one last stern warning, Chance waved them off until he could no longer see the minivan at all.
“They’re gone,” Phoebe murmured, slipping her arm around his waist. “I don’t think they can see you anymore.”
Chance dropped his arm over Phoebe’s shoulder. They stood there on the porch in comfortable silence for a moment.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft and raspy. “For your insight, and for caring enough to say what you thought. I would have flubbed this whole thing up. It’s hard having a girl. I just want to protect her from the world—from teenage boys in particular. And I know I can’t do that.”
