by Cindy Kirk
“Did you call or text her?” David asked in a casual tone that Hadley guessed was forced.
“She doesn’t like people to call her.” Brynn spoke matter-of-factly. “So I’ve texted her—twice—and asked her to call me.”
“You have a phone?” Hadley couldn’t hide her surprise.
“A flip one,” David explained. “Not a smartphone.”
“I want an iPhone.” Brynn cast a glance at her father. “But—”
“Not until you’re older.”
“How many questions are there?” Hadley asked, more to change the subject than out of any real curiosity.
“Five.” Brynn pulled out a chair and plopped down.
When Hadley started to round the table so David could sit next to his daughter, Brynn grabbed her arm. “You sit by me. Daddy, you sit there.”
Brynn pointed to the chair opposite her. “’Cause this is an interview.”
David hesitated for only a second, then moved to the chair indicated. “I thought we’d work tonight on something Hadley can help with.”
“She is going to help.” Brynn shot Hadley a sunny smile. “She’s going to write down your answers.”
“I am?”
Brynn’s smile faded. “If you don’t want to, I—”
“I want to.” Hadley closed her hand over the child’s small, almost delicate one and gave it a squeeze. “Since you’re the one asking the questions, you have more than enough to do.”
“Okay.” David sat. “I see I’m outnumbered here.”
His tone was easy, his smile indulgent. The brightness from the art deco light fixture played on the dark strands of his hair. He was a nice man. A wonderful father. So different from Justin.
With long practice, Hadley shoved the unpleasant memories into the rusty file drawer in her head and turned the key. Tonight was a treat and too special to ruin with past pain.
Hadley experienced a surge of pleasure when her eyes locked with Brynn’s and they exchanged a conspiratorial look.
“Out of curiosity, who gets to answer these questions?” Hadley inclined her head. “You mentioned your mother and father. Anyone else?”
“Gram.” Brynn beamed, obviously referring to David’s mother, Lynn. “I already told her about the questions. She can’t wait to answer them.”
“What about your mother’s parents? Are they—?”
David’s eyes shot a warning.
Hadley fell silent, not finishing the question.
“My mom’s dad is dead.” Brynn spoke matter-of-factly. “My mom’s mother isn’t into kids.”
“Oh,” was the only response Hadley could summon.
“What’s the first question?” David redirected the conversation with an ease that told Hadley he’d had practice.
Brynn pushed a notebook and a couple of pencils in Hadley’s direction. “Are you ready?”
Hadley lifted a pencil. “Ready.”
When she’d hopped out of bed this morning and considered the day ahead, Hadley had planned to spend the evening figuring out how she was going to afford the basics on a drastically reduced income.
Instead, here she was, with David and Brynn.
Brynn lifted the sheet and read, “What is your full name?”
“David Robert Chapin.”
Hadley wrote it down, glanced up. “Robert?”
David flashed a smile. “My father’s name.”
Brynn looked up from the paper. “How did you get your first name?”
They moved swiftly through the rest of the questions, with Brynn doing the asking and Hadley recording David’s answers in her best penmanship.
Hadley smiled as she handed the paper to Brynn, recalling David’s pained expression when he’d reluctantly admitted his grandfather had given him the nickname Davy.
“Davy.” Hadley mouthed the word, while Brynn slid the paper with the answers into a folder.
“Don’t go there,” he mouthed back, and she stifled a chuckle.
“What’s next?” Hadley asked, as if it was understood there was more to come. She hoped there was more. She wasn’t ready for the evening to end.
“It’s my turn.” David snatched the paper with the questions from in front of Brynn. “I get to ask my daughter these questions.”
The look of pleasure washing over Brynn’s face had Hadley’s heart swelling.
Looking very grown-up, the child straightened in her seat and placed her hands on the table. “I’m ready.”
David’s gaze shifted to Hadley. “You’ll record her answers?”
Hadley twirled her pencil like a baton. “Ready when you are…Davy.”
Stifling a chuckle, David focused on Brynn. “What’s your full name?”
“That’s easy.” Brynn tossed her head, the gesture sending her blond hair rippling down her back. “Brynn Elizabeth Chapin.”
When her grip faltered, Hadley tightened her fingers around the pencil. “Elizabeth was my grandmother’s name. It’s mine, too.”
The words popped out before she could stop them. Hadley reminded herself this wasn’t about her. This was about the Chapin family and Brynn.
“A pretty name.” David continued to the next question. “How did you get your name?”
“My mommy liked the name Brynn and chose it for me. My daddy liked it, too, because it was kinda like his mother’s name. Right, Daddy?”
“Exactly right, Sweet Pea.”
“Elizabeth.” Brynn smiled. “That came from my birth mother.”
Hadley froze. She tried to recall if anyone had told her Brynn was adopted. “Birth mother?”
“My mommy and daddy chose me. Out of all of the children in the world, I was meant to be their little girl. They promised my birth mother they’d love me forever.”
“It was an easy promise to make.” David gave his daughter a wink. “An even easier one to keep.”
Hadley kept her voice light. “Have you met your birth mother?”
“No,” David answered before Brynn had a chance. “Everything was through an attorney. The birth mother wanted Brynn’s middle name to be Elizabeth. It took great courage and love for her to trust us to raise Brynn. Giving her that middle name was a small thing to ask when she’d given us so much.”
Tears stung the backs of Hadley’s eyes, but she blinked them back before either David or Brynn could notice.
“Back to the questions.” David glanced down. “Do you have any nicknames?”
Brynn thought for a moment. “You call me Sweet Pea.”
What about your mother? Did she have a special name for you?
“When and where were you born?”
Hadley wished David would slow down. She had the feeling that once they were done with the questions, the evening would be over.
Brynn rattled off her birth date, then paused. “I was born in Chicago.”
“That’s right.” David shifted his gaze to Hadley. “At the time Brynn was born, Whitney and I were living in Lincoln Park.”
His expression grew thoughtful.
“There’s much about the city to like.” He smiled at Brynn. “It will always be special because of you.”
“Camille was born in Chicago, too,” Brynn added.
It was a perfect lead-in to a discussion about the nanny. Hadley wondered if David would take it. She didn’t have to wait long for the answer.
“Next question.” David’s tone turned teasing. “What are your best memories of your father?”
Brynn’s eyes lit up. “That’s easy. Reading to each other at night.”
The pencil in Hadley’s hand paused in midair. “You read…to each other?”
“Brynn picks a book. We read a chapter every night.” A look of tenderness settled over David’s handsome features. “I read a paragraph aloud, then Brynn reads the next. Then it’s my turn again.”
“If your part is really small, like just a sentence,” Brynn explained, all serious, “you can ask permission to read an extra paragraph.”
&n
bsp; Hadley could practically see the heartwarming scene. “Sounds wonderful.”
“Did your daddy read to you?” Brynn’s blue eyes were bright with curiosity.
Evasion had become her go-to whenever anyone got too close. But Hadley was tired of the subterfuge. Besides, she was simply answering a question from a child, not shouting her past from Eagle Tower.
“My father was a police detective.” Hadley left out where he’d been on the force. “He wasn’t home very much.”
“My mom was gone a lot, too.” Brynn nodded in understanding. “They can’t read to you when they’re not around.”
“Exactly right.” Hadley kept her tone light.
Brynn’s brows pulled together in thought. “Did your mommy read to you?”
The kid was like a dog with a bone. Hadley knew she’d need to shake Brynn loose before she gave out too much information. But she wasn’t at that point. Not yet.
“My parents were divorced. My mom moved far away. Once she left, I didn’t see her much.” Ever, Hadley mentally added.
Sympathy crossed the faces of both father and daughter.
Hadley’s heart clenched when Brynn reached over and lightly touched her hand.
“I have my dad.” Brynn eyes were like liquid pools of blue. “You had no one.”
“It was okay. Really.” Hadley’s voice thickened, and she wondered who she was trying to convince.
“We should probably move on.” David’s deep voice soothed like balm on a raw burn.
Hadley shot him a grateful glance.
“Next question.” His gaze shifted to his daughter. “Best memories of your mother.”
Hadley hoped, hoped, hoped Brynn had a few happy memories of her mother.
The child opened her mouth, but closed it when a loud barking sounded from outside.
“Ruckus is back.” Brynn jumped to her feet and turned imploring eyes on her father. “Can I feed him some roast beef? Please? I bet he’s starving.”
“Who’s Ruckus?” Hadley stood when David reluctantly pushed back his chair.
“A stray German Shepherd.” David shook his head. “He came around for a couple of weeks a month or so ago. Then he disappeared.”
“Who does he belong to?” Hadley followed Brynn and David into the kitchen.
She watched Brynn fill one bowl with water, while David took roast beef wrapped in cellophane from the refrigerator and cut it into small chunks.
“My guess is he got dumped,” David told her. “We checked with the vet and humane society. No one reported him missing.”
Holding the metal water bowl carefully in both hands, Brynn sighed. “I was sad when he ran off.”
Hadley followed her onto the back porch. “How do you know his name?”
David chuckled. “We don’t.”
“He barks a lot.” Brynn grinned. “When we first saw him, Daddy said, ‘Who’s making that ruckus?’”
Brynn set down the bowl. She’d nearly reached the screen door of the porch when Hadley touched David’s arm. “Shepherds can be high-strung and edgy.”
She hoped David wouldn’t tell her to mind her own business, but Hadley knew some shepherds were more aggressive than others.
“He’s gentle.” David leaned close, as if to keep the conversation between them. “He barks a lot, but he’s no danger to Brynn.”
Ruckus was big, nearly two feet tall. The one Hadley’s dad owned had been the same size and weighed close to a hundred pounds. This dog was so thin, his ribs showed.
Hadley studied the animal as he lapped gratefully at the water. “What are you going to do with him?”
“Can we keep him, Daddy? Please?” Brynn clasped her hands together.
David’s momentary hesitation had his daughter increasing her pleading.
“I promise I’ll feed him and water him and walk him and—”
“I know you would.” David crouched down before her, his voice gentle. “We can’t keep him, Sweet Pea.”
“Why not?” Brynn crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin.
“Taking care of an animal is a lot of work, and”—David paused for a long moment—“we’ll be undergoing some changes in our household. I was going to tell you later, but Camille is moving to Sturgeon Bay.”
Brynn stared. “But Camille lives here. With us.”
“She’s married now.” The cheer in David’s voice didn’t reach his eyes. “She’ll be living with her husband, Allen, now, not with us.”
Brynn’s bottom lip began to tremble. A glossy sheen filled her eyes. “I want her here. With me.”
Hadley sincerely hoped David had more sense than to give the child the platitude that we don’t always get what we want. Not when Brynn had already lost much.
“Despite those changes, I think you should keep the dog.” Hadley knew she’d stepped from solid shore onto ice that could crack at any moment, but she also knew Brynn needed something to go her way.
David turned slowly toward her, those gray eyes suddenly cool. “I don’t think—”
“I know I don’t have a vote, but”—Hadley met David’s gaze and prayed for the right words—“sometimes little things can make a big difference.”
Hadley prayed David understood what she was trying to say. She released the breath she’d been holding when he slowly nodded.
“You’re right.” David’s eyes never left hers. “You don’t have a vote. I—”
“But, Daddy—”
David silenced his daughter’s whine with a glance.
“Let me finish, please.” His gaze shifted to the shepherd, who was stretched out on the rug, licking his paw. “I was going to say, she may not have a vote, but Hadley makes a good point. You and I can make a difference in Ruckus’s life. He won’t have to be cold and lonely and hungry anymore. He’ll have us to love and care for him.”
Hadley’s heart rose to her throat.
“I love him already.” Brynn’s body vibrated with excitement. “Are you saying we can keep him?”
David winked. “That’s what I’m saying.”
Brynn flung herself at her father, wrapping her arms tight around his waist. “Thank you, Daddy. Thank you.”
As he stroked his child’s hair, David met Hadley’s gaze, and no words were necessary.
Chapter 5
David blocked Beck, spun and let the ball fly. The only sound was a satisfying swoosh as it cleared the net. Oh, and Beck’s groan. The buzzer sounded seconds later.
Beck wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his breath ragged. “You’re on fire today.”
“This is what I needed.” David, not the least bit winded, clapped Beck on the back. “I’m glad I decided to drive in.”
Before the divorce, David had been a regular at the weekly pickup basketball game at the Y. After Whitney moved out, he’d started working out in his home gym.
He’d made Brynn—and his work—his entire focus.
Nothing wrong with that…in moderation. But he needed his daughter to see that life went on.
Meeting friends at the Flying Crane on Friday night had been a good first step. Entertaining Hadley on Saturday had been another. Now, he was out amongst friends again.
“I heard you showed up at the Crane Friday night.” Max Brody, a local CPA, grabbed a towel from the bench and tossed one to David. His blond hair dripped with sweat. He was nearly as tall as David, with a lean, muscular build.
“It was a last-minute decision.” David swiped the towel over his face, then slung it around his neck. “The band was good, but loud.”
“That’s why we got a table on the deck.” Beck grabbed a towel off the stack at the sidelines.
“I wish we could have been there. But Steve was out with your mother.” Max gestured with his head toward David. “Ami and Marigold were at the Crane. With the exception of Hadley, we only use family for sitters. Unfortunately, she was working that night.”
David couldn’t hide his surprise. “Hadley babysits fo
r you and Prim?”
“Not often.” Max and Prim had twin boys who were Brynn’s age and a new baby girl. “Like I said, between Prim’s sisters, my mother and Steve, we have childcare covered. On those rare occasions when everyone is busy, Hadley helps out.”
“She’s watched Sarah Rose a few times for us,” Beck added.
“Ever since we moved to Good Hope, we’ve had Camille.” David’s fingers tightened around the ball he held. “She’s left.”
He briefly explained his predicament. “Once school starts, I should be able to handle the before- and after-school hours. But I need someone to get me through the next month.”
“Camille was a live-in.” Though said as a statement, Beck’s tone held a question.
“She had her own suite of rooms.” David tossed the ball in a high arc. He shot up one hand and grinned when it fell neatly into the metal bin by the wall.
“I know of someone who’d be perfect for you,” Beck said. “She’s looking for not only a temporary place to live, but some extra income. Interested?”
“Definitely.” David knew Beck would never suggest someone he wouldn’t trust in his own home. “Who is this Wonder Woman?”
Beck turned toward the lockers. “Hadley Newhouse.”
Hadley?
Her name rolled around in David’s head as he showered and dressed.
He discovered from Beck that while Ami wanted to pay her for the month the shop was closed, Hadley had refused. Not only that, her apartment above the bakery would be unlivable during parts of August.
Beck was right.
Moving in with him—and Brynn—would be a perfect solution to both their problems.
“You were on fire today, bro.”
David’s younger brother’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“Some days everything goes your way.” David lifted his hands. “Other times…”
“You miss an easy lay-up.” A smile tugged at the corners of Clay’s lips.
David sometimes had trouble believing the little kid who once insisted on wearing a Batman costume to church was now a principal. “You may have missed the lay-up, but the three-pointer you hit from midcourt was impressive.”
“You know me.” Clay shrugged. “Always the show-off.”
It was something their father used to say about Clay, and not always in a complimentary way.
