Man of His Word

by Cynthia Reese

  “Which is why I didn’t do it again,” he popped back.

  “Daniel,” Ma interjected. “Go on. Take the ladder down. You can put it back up after Kimberly and Marissa are gone—and, Kimberly, I won’t hear of you wasting your hard-earned money on a cramped little shoebox in town. You stay right here. Daniel will take the ladder down.”

  “Ma!” Daniel protested, sounding more like Marissa. “Kimberly’s told her not to go near it. That ought to do.”

  Ma arched an eyebrow. “Obviously, you’ve never had kids, and your memory is a wee bit fuzzy on all the times I told you not to do something and you did it anyway. A few days without that ladder won’t kill anybody,” Ma asserted. “And it will give Kimberly some peace of mind.”

  Daniel gawked at Kimberly. “Climbing is good for Marissa. She needs exercise and fresh air and core strength. You keep telling her no and she’s going to rebel big-time, you mark my—”

  “Daniel.” Ma said his name in a crisp, cool way that brought him to heel. “Kimberly has to raise her child the way she sees fit. She knows the risks that Marissa can take better than me or you—like DeeDee had to teach us what foods were safe for Taylor. Now, am I going to have to ask Rob or Andrew to take that ladder down?”

  “No, ma’am. But it’s pointless.” Daniel waved his hand. “Forget it. I can see I’m wasting my breath.” He stalked off in the direction of the barn and its storehouse of tools.

  Tension drained from Kimberly, and she realized just how taut she’d been holding herself. “Thank you,” she told Ma. “I really appreciate the way you backed me up.”

  “Ahem.” Ma had gone back to shelling peas. “I don’t pick favorites. When my own do something out of line, I call it like I see it. Like I said. It’s your right to raise your child as you see fit.”

  Something in Ma’s words niggled at Kimberly. She ran her fingers through the shelled peas in her pan, searching for any unshelled ones she’d missed.

  “You...you don’t agree?”

  “Are you asking me? For advice?” Ma fixed her with eyes that were as blue as Daniel’s.

  “Well...yeah. I mean, yes, ma’am. You—” Kimberly’s throat clogged up with unexpected emotion. “I wish my own mother were more like you. You’re so calm and patient and—and wise.”

  Ma chuckled and shook her head. “I’m like a duck, darlin’. I’m paddling like mad underneath. But...well, I have raised six kids. So I guess I’ve gotten to understand a few things.”

  “Like?”

  Ma weighed her words. “Daniel didn’t put it very tactfully, but you might want to look at ways you can say yes to Marissa more often. I know, I know. We deal with it with Taylor. They don’t want to be different. They think they’re ten feet tall and bulletproof. But, honey, you have to look ahead—in six years, where will Marissa be?”

  Kimberly gulped. “I don’t even want to think about college, Ma. I’m busy praying I can get her to graduation safe and sound.”

  “Kimberly.” Now Ma set aside her pan and grasped Kimberly’s hands in her own. “I raised six kids. Lost a husband to a fire. Saw all three of my boys bent on following in his footsteps and, despite all my worry, being firefighters. I see Taylor go out every day, knowing...knowing that someone could hand her something to eat that could make her drop dead of anaphylactic shock before we could even fumble for her EpiPen. I know a thing or two about wanting to get somebody to graduation safe and sound.”

  “Then you should understand—”

  Ma shushed her with another gentle squeeze to her fingers. “But, honey, Kimberly, when all you’re doing is praying to crawl from rock A to rock B by sunset, that’s not living. That’s surviving. I’m not saying throw caution to the wind. I’m saying...” She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath. Then she fixed that Daniel-blue gaze back on Kimberly. “Say yes when you can. If my Maegan can keep a cerebral palsy patient safe in the saddle, she can keep your baby safe, too. It will give Marissa a sense of independence, and right now, that’s what she needs. Plus...you need some help. You’ve toted this load alone for far too long. It’s too much for one person, Kimberly. Way too much.”

  Kimberly burst into tears, allowing herself to be folded into Ma’s arms, sobbing against her shoulder. She pulled back and wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this. I can’t understand what you Monroes do to me. I’ve cried more since I’ve been here than I have...ever.”

  Ma patted her on the hand. “Maybe that’s part of your problem. A good cry isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s like the wash cycle. Cleans your insides up.”

  “Oh, Ma, I love you!”

  “And I feel the same. Daniel accuses me of adopting every stray that comes to my door, but...you’re special. Daniel thinks so, and I do, too. Maybe it’s because of Marissa and how Daniel...well.” She stared off, not speaking. Then she turned back and added, “But I think...no, I know—even if I weren’t in the business of adopting strays, I’d take you in. In a heartbeat.”

  Kimberly felt a wave of pleasure pulse through her at Ma’s words. Then, inexplicably, pain trailed in its wake. This whole Monroe family was worming its way into her heart—Ma, and Daniel, and even scrappy Taylor. But, she reminded herself, they weren’t her family—she and Marissa had to go back home, and soon.

  And that would leave the both of them feeling even more scared and alone than if they’d never found this oasis in the first place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DANIEL SPIED MARISSA scrunched up next to Rufus’s soft brown body at the bottom of the oak tree as he bent over the eye hooks that held the ladder in place.

  “You don’t have to take it down,” she told him. Her voice was doleful and low, the words barely making the ascent to the tree house. She stroked the dog’s ears and Rufus uttered a grunt of approval. “It’s not fair to the other kids. I won’t go up it. It’s stupid, but I’ll listen to my mom.”

  With feet as slow and heavy as his heart, Daniel clambered down the ladder and dropped to the ground. He crouched on the balls of his feet in front of her.

  “Marissa, I told your mom I would take it down. And a Monroe says what he means, and does what he says. I couldn’t look your mom in the eye if I told her a barefaced lie.”

  What about a not-so-barefaced lie? his conscience poked back in response. You heard what the judge told you. You’re not legally bound to keep Marissa’s identity a secret.

  But he was ethically bound. After all, he was a Monroe. Marissa stabbed at the soft dirt in the fork of the gnarled roots of the oak. Startled, Rufus sat up, shaking his head. “It’s just not fair,” she said.

  He ruffled her hair. “I know, kiddo. Life stinks sometimes.”

  “Can’t I—can’t I move down here with you and Ma and Taylor? I could work, you know. I could earn my keep. I’m really good with the babies.”

  “Oh, Marissa.” He sat back on the soft moss-covered ground. What could he say to her? “Your mom loves you, you know that. You love your mom. And you’d get bored of life down here pretty quick, I assure you. This place is no Atlanta.”

  She stabbed harder at the dirt, churning up the soil with a vengeance. “I wouldn’t. I hate it up there. I hate the school—I don’t even get to do PE, because the stupid coach is afraid I’ll get hurt and bleed to death. And they gave me safety scissors in home ec—like I was little kid. Plus...I couldn’t even use the sewing machine. I really wanted to learn how to sew.”

  “Okay...” He blinked and drew in a breath. “So school is pretty tough. But you have friends, right?”

  “Who wants to hang out with a freak like me? They all gather around me and ask stupid questions. Like...if I cut you, how quick would you bleed to death?” The stick broke under her fierce attack, and she tossed it away. “I hate it. I wish I didn’t have to ever go back. If my mom would let me, I’d do homeschool.”

  “Your mom...” Maybe he didn’t agree with Kimberly’s decisions when it came to Marissa, but Ma was right. Kimberly was in a better positio
n to know what was safe for her daughter. He should have realized the danger the tree house posed. “She’s in a tough spot, too, you know. She needs to keep you safe.”

  “It’s just... If I knew, you know, that it would be over. That I’d maybe outgrow this. That I could get big enough, old enough, to finally do things.” Marissa shook her head. “I know that doesn’t make any sense, but I...I can’t figure out a better way to say it.”

  Daniel remembered the awful days after he’d lost his father, how the prospect of the years ahead without him had yawned like an endless chasm. He understood how something that seemed never ending was a worse torment than something with a clear and definite end.

  He fumbled for words to let her know he understood how she felt—and maybe even why—but couldn’t figure out how to do it in a way that didn’t condescend.

  As he stared at the gathering dusk, two flashes lit up the ground where the wide oak limbs bent low.

  “See there?” He pointed in the direction of the flashes. Marissa followed his finger. Sure enough, another pair of spectral lights glowed briefly.

  She gasped with pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Ooh...are those lightning bugs?” she asked. “I’ve never seen real, actual lightning bugs before. They’re awesome.”

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, ’Rissa. You watch. In a few minutes, we’ll have quite a show. But you know why a lightning bug makes such a splash?”

  She shook her head. “No. Why?”

  “Because it’s dark enough that we can see them. In the daylight, even if they shone their hearts out, they wouldn’t show up. Sometimes...sometimes we have to have a little darkness and gloom to appreciate a lightning bug.”

  Okay, so his attempt at philosophy was corny, and she’d probably roll her eyes—

  But then he felt her hand grip his arm, and she turned those green eyes up to his. They were shiny with tears, glowing in the twilight with almost as much impact as the lightning bugs. “Don’t give up, Daniel. Please. I’m a Monroe, right? You said it. I’m a Monroe kid. So don’t give up on me. Mom really will listen to you and Ma if you tell her to let me try things. I know it. I just know it.”

  Daniel couldn’t keep back the scoff. He thought of all the prickly conversations he’d had with Kimberly, how much they’d tussled over whether he should break his word to Miriam. “I think you’ve got that wrong. Your mom doesn’t think too highly of me right now, Marissa.”

  “But you like her, don’t you?”

  The question, coming out of nowhere, startled Daniel. “Why—sure, of course, and I like you, too,” he stumbled. “Your mom’s really nice.”

  “And smart. She’s really smart.”

  He couldn’t resist ruffling her hair again. She didn’t seem to mind. “Surprising you should say that, kiddo, seeing as how in the past few minutes one of your favorite words has been stupid.”

  Marissa blushed. “I know. I shouldn’t use that word. Mom likes to point out that the only pronoun in the word stupid is I. So when you say stupid, you’re really showing everybody how stupid you are.”

  Daniel raised his eyebrows. “She is smart, isn’t she?” He let his mind drift to all the reasons he liked Kimberly Singleton: her drive, her compassion, the fierce protection she exhibited, how she sprang to the challenge of raising the baby girl he had brought into this world.

  If only we could have met some other way. Maybe we might have had a chance.

  “Will you take me fishing? If you have to take that stupid—okay, sorry—that rope ladder down, can you at least take me fishing? At the old millpond? Taylor says it’s really cool.”

  “Well—” He hesitated. “I’ve learned my lesson. Let me ask your mom first.”

  He expected protests and groans, but all he got was a delighted grin. “Okay! Thanks!” Inexplicably, Marissa jumped up and scampered off, Rufus at her heels.

  Amazing. He couldn’t figure out the daughter...and he sure couldn’t figure out her mom. With a sigh, he started back up the ladder in hopes that he could get it dismantled and climb down by way of the branches before darkness well and truly fell.

  * * *

  KIMBERLY HAD STAYED behind on the swing when the rest of the women and Daniel’s brothers had filed into the house to complete the preparations for the evening meal. It seemed as if the family was drawn to this house for that meal, regardless of whether it was a weeknight or a weekend, early or late...they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.

  Her excuse to Ma for staying on the porch was to finish shelling the peas, but she had really wanted a chance to talk to Daniel in private.

  She’d grown impatient waiting for him. The peas had long been shelled, and now she dallied on the back porch. How long did it take to unhook a ladder after all? Her impatience nursed the embers of her earlier anger at him, and she hated how she drew strength from it.

  So what? You’ve got to be mad at him to stand your ground. You’re right, Singleton. You are in the right, and he is no more legally bound to keep this secret than the man in the moon.

  His work boots scraped along the porch steps as he came up them, a good deal slower than he had earlier that evening. The rope ladder was loosely coiled in one hand.

  “You want to keep it?” he asked. “So you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I didn’t go behind your back and put it up again?”

  She felt her face color. Did he really think her as overbearing as that? Was she as overbearing as that? “Don’t be silly. We’ll be gone before you know it and you can put it back up. I expect you think I’m an overprotective mother.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is what you think.”

  Kimberly sat back, startled, the swing screeching a protest in the still night. “I—I—” It did matter to her what he thought. It mattered a great deal, she realized, and that knowledge bothered her. She’d never cared a fig for what anybody thought about how she raised Marissa. She’d done it all by herself—nobody else volunteered to help, that was for sure, so they could think what they wanted. She did the best she could, and that would have to do.

  But with Daniel...it did matter. And that scared her. Was she somehow painting him into her mind’s eye as a sort of father figure for Marissa?

  “I heard you got Marissa’s paperwork from the hospital today,” he said.

  The sudden change of subject confused her. “Yes.”

  “Did it help?” Was that anguish in his voice? Something was vibrating along the edges, a pleading hopefulness.

  If it was anguish, she wasn’t going to let him off the hook. Maybe he’d give up a hint of information—toss those bread crumbs she so desperately needed—if he felt badly enough and knew how little use Marissa’s local hospital file had been. “The doctors say not much. They still want... They at least want the birth mother’s records from the hospital about the details of the labor process. It could tell them a lot, Daniel. It could help them figure out what was wrong with Marissa. They say—they say she could die.”

  His shoulders slumped, and the rope ladder drooped even lower, pooling on the wide painted boards of the deck. “I was hoping...”

  “Hoping I wouldn’t point out that the safe-haven law doesn’t prevent you from telling me who Marissa’s birth mother is?”

  Daniel shook his head. “Maybe the letter of the law is kind of murky on that. But I’m a fireman. And I responded to an emergency on fire department property, Kimberly. What’s more...I gave that girl my word. And I meant it. If I don’t get to second-guess how you raise Marissa, then you don’t get to second-guess how I do my job. I keep my promises. All of them. And I’ve learned to make only those that I can keep. I realize you don’t understand. I realize you think it should be easy for me to blab everything I know. But I do have my reasons, and just as your reasons aren’t always easy for people to understand, maybe mine aren’t, either. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t good ones.”

  She put a hand to her face. “Drat it,” she mumbled. “Why do you a
lways have to do that?”

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “I get so mad with you, so ready to tear into you and give you a good telling-off...and then you go and say something so—so reasonable.”

  “Maybe because I’m a reasonable sort of guy?”

  She leaned back, staring at the tongue-and-groove porch boards forming the high ceiling. They were in pristine condition; she could tell a fresh coat of paint had been added recently.

  How nice it must be to have people look after things for you. Back home, she didn’t have so much as one person to help her change a lightbulb. And pretty soon she and Marissa would be back home.

  Alone.

  Fatigue and exhaustion seeped into her every pore.

  “Can you do me a favor?” she asked finally.

  “Anything but tell you who Marissa’s birth mother is.”

  “I got that loud and clear.” Kimberly sat up. “Can you and Maegan teach Marissa a little about riding? On the oldest, pokiest nag you’ve got?”

  “Sure. But you could be there, too—”

  “No,” she said firmly. “I can’t. Call me weird and paranoid, but I’ll completely freak. I can’t be there, Daniel. I can’t.” Her voice broke, and she gritted her teeth to keep more of those Monroe-induced tears at bay. She would not cry again, if it killed her. If she exploded from holding all those tears in, so be it. She would not cry. “So can you help me?”

  “I’d be honored. It would be my pleasure.”

  His words washed over her. A man telling her that it would be his pleasure to help her do something tough and scary when it came to Marissa... She could get hooked on this.

  Yes. Every fiber in her being was telling her to run, and run fast, before she could get well and truly addicted to the entire Monroe clan...but especially to a man like Daniel.