The Wrong Man

by Laura Abbot

  The bread in Trent’s mouth turned to sawdust. For him, the question brought back the memory of Georgia’s outrage when Ashley said she was marrying him, with or without her mother’s blessing.

  Instead of belaboring the point, Libby gave a simple and, to Trent, thoroughly satisfactory answer. “Because I loved him.”

  Georgia smirked. “Apparently not for long. Why not?”

  Casting a meaningful glance at Kylie, Gus intervened. “Let’s save this conversation for another time.” He turned to his granddaughter. “Now then, young lady, why don’t you tell me about your school? Miss Cam—er, Libby tells me you’re doing better and better.”

  While Georgia picked at her food and Trent prayed for a merciful conclusion to the meal, Kylie went into great detail concerning the wonders of second grade, marred only by “that ignoramus Bart.”

  She finished her description of the recent field trip with one last comment. “And guess what? Since we moved, I’ve learned to ski.”

  “Ski?” Georgia glared at Trent. “Why, she’s way too young. Skiing is dangerous. But isn’t that just like you, Trent.” She shook her head in disgust. “It’s one thing for you to try all these daredevil things, but I won’t have my granddaughter subjected to your notions of what is fun.” The “fun” came out as an accusation all its own. “Next thing I know, you’ll have her hang gliding and riding motorcycles.”

  “Many children here ski quite young,” Libby offered in his defense.

  Georgia bristled. “Kylie is not just any child. I have lost a daughter, and I cannot countenance teaching Kylie to ski. Not until she’s much older.”

  Kylie turned her head from one adult to the next. “I like to ski,” she said decisively.

  “That’s beside the point,” Georgia told her. “You’re my granddaughter and I forbid it.”

  Trent had reached the breaking point. He laid down his napkin and rose to his feet. “It is not your place to forbid or permit it, Georgia. I am the parent here.”

  Her lips drawn in a tight line, Georgia averted her gaze from the others.

  When Gus reached for his wife’s hand, she pulled it away. “Sweetheart, Trent has the law on his side, and I’m sure he has no more interest in endangering Kylie than we do.”

  Georgia stood up. “He’s never been responsible,” she sputtered. “Always gallivanting up and down mountains—leaving his wife and daughter for river-rafting trips with his wild friends. He always cared more for his own amusement than for Ashley or Kylie.”

  Incensed, Trent stepped around the table. “That is absolutely not true, and I resent the implication.”

  Only dimly did Trent hear Gus try to intervene. “Sit down, people. Surely we can conduct ourselves like civilized adults.”

  “That’s the problem,” Georgia accused. “Since when has Trent ever been a ‘civilized adult’?”

  “Don’t fight!” a small voice shrieked.

  Stunned, Trent turned. Tears ran down Kylie’s cheeks. “Oh, sweetie.” He went to her chair and picked her up in his arms. Georgia had the grace to look ashamed. Out of the corner of his eye, Trent noticed Libby carefully folding her napkin and replacing it on the table.

  “We aren’t fighting, honey, just disagreeing,” Gus said by way of addressing Kylie’s anxiety.

  “I feel as if I’m intruding.” Libby rose to her feet. “Before I leave, however, I have one thing to say. I am very fond of Kylie. As a child, I essentially had no family, but Kylie does. All of you love her. She deserves your best. And that means setting aside your differences for her sake.” She walked over to Trent and laid a hand on his arm, then kissed Kylie’s wet cheek. “Good night, sweetie. See you Monday morning bright and early. Okay?”

  Kylie nodded. “’Kay.”

  Then she spoke to Trent. “I’ll see myself out. You take care of your guests. Thank you for the dinner.”

  With her back to the Chisholms, only Trent observed the film of tears in her eyes. Watching her leave was the hardest thing he had done in a long while. He wanted to race after her and hold on to her for dear life. To thank her for adding this last touch of dignity to the evening.

  “Daddy?”

  Oblivious to his former in-laws, he stared into his daughter’s reddened eyes. “What, honey?”

  “I love Miss Cameron, don’t you?”

  On Georgia’s face, shock registered. Gus hung his head.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “And I can, too, ski again, right?”

  His eyes locked with Georgia’s for an instant before he turned back to Kylie and said as gently as he could, “Absolutely.”

  BEFORE STARTING her car, Libby sat for a few moments, replaying the evening. She had not anticipated a hearty welcome from the Chisholms, and there was no disputing the stressfulness of the situation. Despite all of that, she had seen cause for optimism after the Barbie game with Kylie and Georgia. But she had been stunned by Georgia’s treatment of Trent over the skiing issue. Nothing excused that kind of behavior in front of Kylie. The child’s plea lingered in Libby’s memory, breaking her heart. Don’t fight.

  Libby started the car and pulled down the lane, aware of the treetops swaying in the wind, tossed about by forces they could not control. Just like poor little Kylie, caught up in the crossfire of adult needs and expectations.

  Halfway home, Libby couldn’t help wondering again if she’d made a huge mistake. The Traverses were easygoing, accepting. By contrast, the dynamics between the Chisholms and Trent were complicated. Was there even a chance to forge a family out of tonight’s cast of characters? And had Trent truly changed? It was hard to ignore Georgia’s accusations about Trent’s outdoor excursions with friends, which had only triggered Libby’s old insecurities and fears. She sighed. How important was her dream of the loving, inclusive family? Was it even attainable? Especially with him?

  By the time she pulled in to her own driveway, she had calmed down enough to understand she had two choices. She could step out of the picture in an effort to restore peace to the Chisholms and Trent and Kylie—and perhaps to protect herself. Or…she could stick it out, fighting for the man she loved and for the family she hoped to create with him.

  No doubt about it. The Chisholms were hurting, devastated by the loss of their only child. If she chose to stay with Trent, it would not be easy to win them over. Maybe even impossible.

  But she could no longer delude herself. In her life she had taken the escape route before. Twice. Once in her awful eighteenth year—a time she did her best never to think about—and once with her divorce.

  She wouldn’t do that again. If she didn’t face her challenges, she would risk losing life’s most precious gift—love.

  There was no choice to be made.

  WHILE GEORGIA GOT Kylie ready for bed, Trent cleared the dishes from the table, then joined Gus in the living room. He saw no point in avoiding the obvious. “Looks like I’ve been pretty dense.”

  Gus looked up. “How do you mean?”

  “I knew you both were upset when Kylie and I moved. Maybe I shouldn’t have sprung Libby on you so soon.”

  “I won’t kid you. It’s strange seeing you with another woman. Georgia’s having an especially rough time. She clings so to Ashley’s memory, it’s hard for her to accept you with anyone else.” He sighed. “But I suppose we should’ve been prepared. You’re young. We can’t expect you to grieve forever. But we’re very protective where Kylie is concerned, and I have to admit to reservations. If you and Libby divorced once, there must’ve been problems. What’s to prevent them from surfacing again?”

  From Gus’s perspective, it was a valid point. “I was the wrong man for her then. We’re different people now.”

  “How so?”

  “For one thing, we communicate more openly.”

  “And?”

  “I have a direction for my life. Work that excites me.”

  “What about Kylie?”

  “She is slowly adapting. Once we find a place of our own,
it will be even better. She’s made a few friends. School is not quite such an issue. She and Libby have a real bond.”

  Gus eyed him shrewdly. “It’s not enough for you to take up again with your former wife simply because she’s good for Kylie.”

  “That’s a plus, but there’s a far more compelling reason.”

  “Like?”

  What did he have to lose by telling the truth? “I love her,” he said simply.

  Gus kneaded his forehead with his first and second fingers. “In that case, you’ve given us no choice but to make the best of the situation. Give us time, son.” His voice cracked. “We don’t want to lose you and Kylie. I don’t.”

  Trent released a pent-up sigh. “Thank you, Gus.”

  “Daddy!” Followed by Georgia, Kylie bounded into the room in her flannel nightgown. “Grandma told me a story ’bout Mommy when she was a little girl. How she was in this dance show and wore a beeyoo-ti-ful…” She scrunched up her mouth. “Whaddya call it, Grandma?”

  “A tutu.”

  “Yes, a tutu. Grandma still has it and thinks I’m almost big enough for it to fit. She’s going to send it to me so I can be beautiful, too.”

  Trent looked from Gus to Georgia. “We will never forget Ashley. And that’s a promise.”

  Georgia remained silent, as if processing his words, her eyes never leaving his. Then, after a hesitant nod, she turned to her husband. “I’m tired, Gus. We need to leave.”

  After her grandparents kissed Kylie good-night and left the cabin, Trent tucked her in bed, smoothing the blanket around her shoulders and turning the bedside lamp to low.

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why don’t Grandma and Grandpa like Miss Cameron?”

  “It’s not that they don’t like her.” He struggled to explain. “They’re used to thinking of our family being you, me and Mommy. They want us to be happy, but it’s hard for them to see us with another woman, even one as kind and wonderful as Libby. They’ll have to get used to the idea. That may take some time.”

  “But they will, won’t they?” The fear in her voice wrenched his heart.

  He silently prayed he was telling the truth. “Yes, honey, they will.”

  “Good,” she said, turning on her side and curling her fingers around the hem of the blanket she brought up to her chin. “’Night, Daddy.”

  He bent over and kissed her cheek. “Good night. I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” she whispered.

  He tiptoed from the room, certain he could give his daughter no greater gift than Libby, and knowing he needed to phone and reassure her there was no obstacle too great to overcome, so long as they loved one another.

  LIBBY COULDN’T STOP smiling. Trent had come by after his search and rescue training meeting later that week. “Can’t waste a baby-sitter,” he’d said, engulfing her in a huge bear hug.

  Now he sat on the floor, his back against the sofa, bits of red construction paper between his legs. She watched his frown of concentration as he carefully cut out paper hearts for her Valentine’s Day bulletin board. Meanwhile, sitting cross-legged and facing him, she cut strips of white paper lace.

  “You really think second-graders are into this love stuff?” he said with a grin.

  Libby sailed a piece of construction paper in his direction. “Gotta train them young.”

  He reached out and rubbed a hand along her thigh. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m kind of enjoying being trained at this advanced age.”

  His smoldering eyes made it difficult to concentrate. “You were never particularly trainable.”

  He laid down his scissors, tossed a heart aside and crawled closer. “Try me,” he said, nuzzling her cheek.

  Waves of desire raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She knelt and draped her arms around his shoulders. “See,” she murmured. “That’s just what I mean. No soft words, whispered endearments. Just the direct approach. “Try me.” Coquettishly she drew her palms across his temples, then over his face and chest as she slowly sank back on her heels. “Not good enough, mister.”

  “Okay. Here’s a start.” He took both her hands in his. “Sweetest of the sweet, will you take pity on this poor soul who loves you and say you’ll be my valentine? Forever?”

  She cocked her head. “Not bad for a first try.”

  He framed her face in his palms. “Lady of the beautiful eyes, I give you power over me. I am a lovesick pawn in your hands.”

  “I don’t believe a word of it,” she told him, trying not to laugh.

  “Then how about this?” He stretched out on the floor, pulling her on top of him. “I’m helpless with love.”

  The feel of his body, firm and supple, beneath hers, made her remember how they fit together like a lock and key. “Mmm,” she murmured. “This could be good.”

  Cradling her as he turned, he rolled onto his side. Now he looked at her, his eyes so full of love, she shivered with anticipation. “No funny stuff, Lib. I love you. That says it all.”

  One spark. That’s all it would take. She had to be responsible. Groping on the floor, she finally came up with a paper heart. “Here,” she said, sitting up and holding it out to him. “Here is my heart. I will be your valentine.”

  He sat up, a triumphant smile lighting his features. “See? I’m totally trainable.”

  “I might cut you a little slack,” she said, smiling. “I’m not sure I want you ‘totally’ trainable.”

  He growled. “Ah, she likes the male animal in me.”

  Likes? The male animal in him was setting her aquiver. “Maybe.” She picked up a pair of scissors and handed them to him. “But you’ve proved your point, so it’s back to work.”

  “Woman, you’re driving me crazy.”

  “Definitely trainable,” she concluded.

  They worked without speaking for a few minutes, the only accompaniment a Wynton Marsalis CD.

  Then out of the blue he said, “I’m taking Kylie skiing again this Saturday. Would you come with us?”

  “Hmm. What would the Chisholms think? They really didn’t want her to ski yet. Especially not with me, I’m sure.”

  “I can’t be overly concerned with what they think. You were right. Kids around here learn to ski practically before they cut their teeth. I don’t want Kylie to be the oddball. She’s improved a lot in a short time. We’ll take it slow and easy, but she’ll be racing downhill before we know it.”

  “I don’t want to do anything to further alienate Gus and Georgia.”

  “Listen to me, Lib. We can’t live our lives forever anticipating their reactions. We can only do what we think is best for us and for Kylie. So—” he squeezed her hand “—will you come Saturday?”

  He was right. They had to follow their instincts and pray for the best. “Okay.”

  “Great. Kylie has her heart set on it.” He gathered up the scraps of leftover construction paper, stood and tossed the trash into the wastebasket, then pulled Libby to her feet. He laced his fingers through hers and laid his forehead against hers. “I have to get on home. But one last thing occurs to me.”

  “What?”

  “Maybe Georgia and Gus are trainable, too.”

  Her breath caught with the knowledge that they both wanted the same thing—acceptance from the Chisholms. “Let’s work on it,” she said, lifting her face for the kiss she’d been craving all evening.

  “Done,” he said, just before putting his arms around her, pulling her close and lowering his lips to hers.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LIBBY HAD JUST PULLED on her insulated underwear Saturday morning, when the phone rang. She grabbed a turtleneck and struggled into it, then picked up. “Hello?”

  “Lib, it’s me.” Trent sounded frazzled. “We’ve got a problem. I’ve been called to help with an emergency search and rescue operation. Weezer’s at work. Could I drop Kylie off at your place?”

  “Uh, sure. She’ll be disappointed about the skiing.”

  “Y
eah, unless…would you be willing to take her without me?”

  In the background, Libby could hear Kylie’s, “Please, Daddy, get her to say yes.”

  It was a big responsibility, but on the other hand, it would give her a chance to interact with Kylie outside of school. Besides, Libby didn’t want to disappoint her. “If you’re sure that’s all right with you.”

  “Thanks, that’d be great. We’ll be over as fast as we can get there.”

  Once she’d hung up the phone, she quickly donned the rest of her clothes. It was a beautiful day for skiing. And an awful day for someone needing a search and rescue operation. She uttered a silent prayer for the mission and for Trent’s safety, because in his voice, she had recognized his resolve, as well as the familiar undercurrent of excitement.

  LIBBY MARVELED as she watched Kylie negotiate the bunny slope. In the few short weeks Trent had been taking Kylie skiing, she had mastered the basics with the grace of a natural athlete. After several runs, Kylie skied up to her, a determined look on her face. “This is baby stuff.” She pointed toward the chairlift. “Let’s go up there.”

  “You’re sure you’re ready?”

  She lifted her chin. “Positive. I already did it with Daddy lots of times.”

  “All right, then. Let’s go.” Libby knew how important confidence was for a beginning skier, and the particular intermediate slope she had in mind was relatively benign and well within Kylie’s ability.

  Sitting beside Kylie on the lift, Libby curled an arm around the girl’s shoulders, feeling both protective and joyful. This was what it would be like to have a daughter. To take pride in each new accomplishment. To share special times together.

  “This is kinda like flying, isn’t it?” The girl’s eyes sparkled. “I love skiing, don’t you?”

  “I sure do. Did you know your daddy and I used to work at a ski resort?”

  Her eyes widened. “You did? Was that a long time ago?”

  “Just out of college we worked in Park City, Utah, before we got married and moved to this area.”

  “So you’re a really good skier then. Kinda like Picabo.”