The Dad Next Door

by Stephanie Dees

  “I hope you figure it out.” She walked into the house and closed the door, leaving him sitting in the dark.

  * * *

  Inside, Claire closed the kitchen door and fell back against it, sliding to the floor and burying her head in her hands. Maybe she should go out there and beg him to stay. It was what she wanted. Wasn’t that the point, though? It was what she wanted. He had to make this decision for himself.

  And when those feelings of being unwanted and unloved came roaring back, that was her stuff to deal with. He wasn’t responsible for her issues.

  She sighed. Being an adult was way harder than it should be.

  She hauled her lousy self to the bedroom and flopped on the bed. When her cell phone buzzed in her back pocket, she rolled over to dig it out.

  Jordan. Her family came through again. “Hey, sis. Please tell me you’re finally on your way. I could really use a friend about now.”

  “What about the hot cop? I thought you guys were hitting it off.”

  Claire pulled the bedside table open and dug out a chocolate kiss. “We were—are. I don’t know. I think he’s planning to move back to Florida soon.”

  “He sounds stupid.”

  A laugh burst out. “He’s not, but I love you. Thanks for being there for me.”

  “I’m going to be there in person in two days.”

  “I hope you’re bringing a bed, because I have no furniture.” The chocolate melting in her mouth and her sister on the other end of the call gave Claire some much-needed comfort.

  “So needy.” Jordan laughed and, in her mind, Claire could see her in flannel and jeans and boots, her feet propped up in front of the fire. “I can’t wait to see the place.”

  “You’re not going to recognize it. We’re really doing this.”

  “We really are.”

  She could hear the sound of the road as Jordan drove down the highway and imagined her coming closer with every minute. “When Mom died, I was like, okay, now what am I going to do?”

  “I know. I miss her every single second, but maybe it turned out okay in the end. We had to try to come up with our own life plan, or if you’re me, hitch on to my sister’s life plan.”

  “You’re still doing your thing. You’re just doing it here instead of there. Your horses are going to be a huge benefit to the kids who live here. The caseworker, Livvie, was super excited about it.”

  Silence for a second, then, “I’m really glad to hear you say that. I felt kind of like a second or third wheel, especially since I couldn’t help with the reno.”

  “Don’t worry. There’s still plenty to do. Who do you think will plant the gardens?”

  “Not it.” Jordan paused. “Are you really okay? If Joe-Shmoe hurts you, I can totally sic Gus on him.”

  “I think siccing your German shepherd on him might be a little extreme, but I’m going to reserve that possibility.” She laughed. “I really needed to talk to you. Thanks for that.”

  “Sisters gotta stick together. I’ll see you in a couple of days and we’ll eat a pint of ice cream and binge-watch some mindless television in our jammies.”

  “That sounds perfect. Keep me posted on where you are. I can’t wait for you to get here.” Claire hung up and stared at the little pile of silver wrappers she’d collected.

  Her mom used to always sit her down at the kitchen table after she’d had a hard day and hand her a couple of chocolate kisses. Somehow in the unwrapping of the kisses, whatever was bothering her came unwrapped, too, emotions spilling out for her mom to hear. An argument with a friend, a boy who hurt her feelings. A bad grade. The sweetness of the chocolate combined with her mother’s loving kindness always soothed the sting away.

  So what would Mom say now? Something like, Was your friendship with Joe your idea or God’s?

  Claire sat with that awhile, thinking her mother was smarter than she was. It was God’s and mine, I thought.

  And then her mother would say, If this was God, then it will work out no matter what you do. God is big enough to make this house a home for a dozen children and He is big enough to work your friendship with Joe out, too.

  But...

  She’d always been stubborn, trying to argue with her mother’s wisdom.

  No, honey. We can’t direct what we want God to do. We can only wait and be faithful in the meantime.

  Waiting again. Tears stung her eyes. Her mother was right. This project was so labor-intensive—maybe she’d gotten the idea that it was all up to her to make it happen. It wasn’t. It was all in God’s hands from the start. Even Jordan. Even Amelia.

  Even Joe.

  She opened another kiss and stuffed it in her mouth. Mom always knew what to say and Claire missed her with a physical ache, especially now when she was so close to realizing her dream. The kisses were just a reminder, but Claire supposed that was why she was so addicted to them now. They reminded her of love and a safe place.

  Home.

  The phone rang again. She rolled over and picked it up. Jordan always had one more thing to say. “What did you forget?”

  There was a long pause. “Claire? This is Livvie Rabun, from Child Services.”

  Claire bolted upright. “Oh, hi. I’m so sorry. I just this second hung up the phone with my sister and thought it was her calling back.”

  Livvie laughed. “I’m hoping you’re ready to fill that house up.”

  Her heart was jumping in her chest. She’d been waiting for this moment. Wasn’t it too soon? How could she take in kids before her license was complete?

  She didn’t even have enough furniture! “Can you give me more information?”

  “Spoken like a true veteran already. I know it’s sooner than you expected, but we have a sibling group of four that’s been separated and we’d really like to place them together. What do you say?”

  Claire slowly sank back on the pillows. Four!

  Have mercy. “How old? And when would they be coming?”

  “They are...” She could hear papers shuffling. “Thirteen, eleven and nine-year-old twins.” Silence stretched for a moment before Livvie said, “You have a little time. They’re in other foster homes and they’re safe. If you decide to take them, you can meet them whenever you like.”

  “Yes.”

  “What?” Livvie laughed again, her sunny personality coming through the phone. “I was all prepared to give you the hard sell.”

  Maybe God was making her wait because He had bigger plans for her. Sibling set of four—that was pretty big. Her mind was spinning, lists piling up already.

  “Okay, try to get some sleep. It might be the last time you sleep for a while. I’ll email you with more details tomorrow.”

  “Wait, Livvie. What about my license?”

  “We’ll have to have your background check back before we move them. I’ll send you an email with the other foster parents’ info so that you can get in touch and figure out details about transitioning them over.”

  The town council. She had to get the town council’s approval, too. Maybe she didn’t officially need it, but she wanted it. “Wait. Livvie.”

  The resource worker laughed. “Yes?”

  “Is this a long-term or short-term placement?”

  “We’re always hoping for short-term. I don’t have any real details on that right now, though.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Claire hung up the phone, then picked it up again to call Jordan back.

  Four kids. Whoa.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Claire couldn’t stop smiling at her sister, Jordan, who had finally, finally, arrived at Red Hill Farm. They were getting the horses settled in the barn. They would turn them out to pasture in the morning after they had a night to get used to the new smells in Alabama.

  Jordan
hauled the water hose into the barn and filled four buckets. She added a scoop of fruit-flavored drink mix to each bucket so the horses wouldn’t refuse water that didn’t taste the same as they were used to, just like she had for the last couple of weeks in North Carolina.

  Claire peeled a flake of hay for the small Arabian mare and double that for the bigger gelding quarter horses. She tossed the alfalfa hay into each stall and gave each horse a scratch on the neck. When Bartlet put his big gray head over the stall door, she whispered, “You’ll get an apple in the morning, I promise.”

  “You’re going to spoil them, aren’t you?” Jordan was hanging each horse’s halter and lead rope by the stall for easy access.

  “Of course I am, right, Hagrid?” She loved the Haflinger pony, too, with his long blond mane, who bumped her with his broad face when she got close. She scratched between his fuzzy ears. “You goof, I missed you, too.”

  Jordan turned off the hose. “We all missed you. It was a long couple of months, especially knowing what you were going through down here with that crooked chief of police.”

  “I’m not sure he’s crooked, just opinionated and judgy.”

  Her sister huffed and stepped into the stall with Leo, brushing him with quick, short strokes. A big brown horse with a white blaze on his face, he’d been Jordan’s first therapy horse and would stand completely still to be groomed. “Whatever. That ticket for an unlicensed bonfire was ridiculous. As if people don’t burn trash around here on a regular basis. I’m glad you had Joe here keeping an eye on you.”

  “I told you, Joe just lives here with his daughter.” Claire grabbed a dandy brush out of a bucket. She opened Bartlet’s stall door and nudged him out of the way so she could get in to groom him.

  “And there’s nothing between you except he’s your tenant?”

  “Exactly. And we’re friends.”

  “Well, either you have yourself completely fooled or you’re lying. Your voice changes when you talk about him.”

  “It does not!”

  “Okay, then, tell me some things about Joe.” Jordan paused midstroke. “What’s he like as a father?”

  An image popped into Claire’s head: Joe and Amelia having a water fight while painting that crappy little cabin. The memory was sweet, the first time that she’d really seen them bonding. But it was the ache that came along with it that surprised her. She cleared her throat. “Um, he gets that he can’t push her, that she responds better when they tackle projects together. He backs away when she needs space, but not so far that he’s not there when she needs him.”

  “Sounds like a natural.”

  Claire smiled without thinking. “He is.”

  “What’s his best characteristic?”

  Steadfast. Honest. Loving. Thoughtful. “Okay, so maybe I think he’s pretty great. That doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.”

  Jordan, working by Leo’s feet, didn’t look up. “What does he look like? I’ve never seen him.”

  Claire pictured Joe, his silver aviators, pristine T-shirt, spotless jeans and those beat-up dirty boots. She chuckled. “Let’s just say he can wear a pair of boots.”

  Jordan stood and draped her arm across Leo’s back. “Do you not hear yourself? You’re definitely in love with him.”

  “I’m not!” Claire’s mind raced to find all the reasons that her sister was wrong. Except she couldn’t think of a single one. Horrified tears sprang into her eyes. “I can’t be.”

  “Why not?” Jordan stepped out of Leo’s stall, closing the gate behind her and leaning over the door to Bartlet’s stall. “Unless he’s not a good guy.”

  “He is! He’s...great.” She shook her head. “He’s amazing. He really is. But he’s also leaving. He’s said all along that he was going back to work in Florida as soon as he was healed.”

  “Then I guess you wouldn’t have anything to lose.” Jordan turned away as she started on Freckles. “Hey there, boy. Did you miss your barn buddies?”

  Claire patted Bartlet’s big rear as she moved around him to the other side. “What do you mean, I wouldn’t have anything to lose?”

  Jordan had witchy blue-green eyes instead of the lake blue of Claire’s, despite the fact that they were twins. Those knowing eyes peered out from under Freckles’s neck. “I mean, if he’s leaving anyway, you might as well tell him how you feel.”

  Claire rubbed the middle of her forehead where she could feel a headache starting. “Tell him what, exactly? I don’t even know how I feel.”

  “You’ll figure it out.” Jordan squealed as Freckles pulled one of her braids between his velvety lips. “Let go of me, you naughty horse! Look, Claire, you know better than anyone that we’re not promised tomorrow. Talk to him.”

  Jordan started brushing again with purpose. “You always want people to be straight with you. Be straight with him and then let him decide.”

  Claire bent over Bartlet’s hoof to make sure he hadn’t picked up a stone somewhere. A tiny pebble could get in there and make a big old horse lame if you weren’t careful. Jordan had planted a thought in Claire’s mind, and like a tiny pebble in a horse’s hoof, it was going to worry her until she figured it out. She knew she really cared about Joe. She felt like there was potential for more, yes, but in love with him?

  She couldn’t be.

  Right? Or had she just been lying to herself about her feelings for him? Neither one of them had a lot of margin for other things right now, but maybe Jordan was right.

  Maybe she did owe it to herself to tell Joe the truth before he moved.

  She tried out the words. I’m in love with Joe Sheehan.

  Her heart began to pound in her chest, heat rushing her face as she recognized the truth she’d been dancing around for a long time.

  God help me, I’m in love with Joe.

  * * *

  Joe bent over the instructions for the new set of twin beds Claire had ordered for the children who would be moving in here soon. He rolled his shoulder to ease the ache that still crept in from time to time. “I think it’s that one.”

  Claire picked up a long straight piece and fit it into the slot in the headboard. “Yes! Okay, get the drill.”

  He drove the screw into the headboard. “Got it. Let’s do the other side piece next.”

  “Already on it.” Claire picked up the piece and Joe guided it into place. “It seems so strange that one day in the not too distant future, this house will be full of children.”

  “Your dream for Red Hill Farm is about to come true.” He drilled another long screw into the headboard and sat back on his heels. Claire didn’t look like a force of nature, with her jeans and boots and long tunic T-shirt, but she most definitely was one. He’d never met anyone like her. “How does it feel?”

  She flashed him a grin as she handed him the next screw. “Good. But I’ll feel better when the town council gives me their approval. I know I can do this without them, but I don’t want to.”

  He drilled the second screw into place. “I have a feeling you’re going to be surprised that people are more supportive than you thought they would be.”

  “I hope so.” Rolling to his feet, Joe picked up the footboard and held it while Claire whizzed the screws into place. “One down. You want to start on the next one?”

  There was something soothing about working with his hands, seeing things take shape. He moved the headboard to the wall and looked around for Claire. She was still sitting in the same spot. “Claire?”

  She looked down at her hands. “Actually, before we finish up here, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

  His heart rate kicked up. “Okay.”

  “I just... I know you’re trying to make the decision about whether to apply for chief of police or not. And when I make a decision, I like to have as much infor
mation as possible.”

  She stopped and looked down at her feet. He held his hand out to her, and when she slid her hand into his, he pulled her up.

  Tugging her toward him, he held both of her hands. “Talk to me.”

  “I care about you, Joe. You came into my life at a time when I had no one and was teetering on the edge of losing it. And you didn’t run away. Instead, you came back. With reinforcements. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you and Bertie and Amelia.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but she didn’t give him a chance to talk.

  “Amelia—I love that kid. She’s resilient and funny and smart.”

  “She’s amazing,” he agreed. “But—”

  “I don’t want you to go, Joe. I want you to stay. For Amelia. And for Bertie.” She paused, swallowing hard and looking away, out the window, like she’d rather be anywhere but here, having this conversation. “And for me. I want you to stay for me.”

  She pressed her fingers against his lips as he opened them to speak. “Let me get through what I have to say. I fell in love with you. I didn’t mean to, but... I love you, Joe. In a totally improbable, unlikely, really unbelievable way. Seriously, I don’t even believe it.”

  A weight settled into his stomach, a knot that he wasn’t sure would ever go away. He didn’t know what to say. He knew he had feelings for her. He’d spent enough time trying to shove them down. He hadn’t even allowed himself to consider it.

  Silence stretched.

  “Okay.” She took a step back. “Okay, I guess that settles that.”

  “It doesn’t, Claire. It doesn’t change how I feel about you that I can’t declare those feelings at this exact moment. I need a minute. A month, maybe. I can’t make promises when I don’t know if I can keep them.”

  She drew in a breath and nodded. “That makes sense. I’m sorry if I overreacted. I feel like I’m laying my heart out on the floor and it’s inevitable that it’s going to get stomped on.”