Ever Caring Page 11

  Tate looked across the table to her, but she was focusing on the croissant she was eating. He was glad he had managed to keep his wits about him during lunch. It had been an awkward affair and, as Addison had said, a complete surprise to him.

  Yesterday, holding Renee in his arms had put a crack in his defenses. For the first time since Molly had died, he had held another woman close.

  But Renee’s life was heading in a direction she wasn’t veering from. He would do well to learn from her. When he’d come to Rockyview, his aim was to give his daughter a home and security. To give her his attention. To avoid making the same mistakes he’d made with Molly.

  Now he wasn’t at all sure where loneliness ended and attraction began. He had to be careful not to risk his heart again.

  “I wanted to do something special for both of you,” his father was saying to Renee and Brenda. Then his expression softened, and he looked toward Renee, a melancholy look in his eyes. “And in honor of Mother’s Day, I especially wanted to do something for you, Renee.”

  Renee’s head shot up at that, her horror-filled eyes shooting toward Addison, then to Arlan.

  Tate’s heart sank. What was his father thinking? Was he going to reveal the truth about Addison and Renee?

  He was about to say something, but Arlan carried on, seemingly oblivious to the heightened tension.

  “I see what an attentive daughter you are to your mother,” his father was saying. “I wanted to honor that by giving you a break from cooking.”

  “Hear, hear,” Mrs. Albertson said, raising her glass of lemonade. “I propose a toast. To the best daughter a mother could ask for.”

  Tate quickly relaxed, and saw Renee do the same. Then he quickly raised his own glass, as well. “To a loving and devoted daughter,” he said quietly.

  A flush worked its way up her neck, and she ducked her head. In spite of his commitment to keep his heart free, he couldn’t prevent his reaction to her vulnerability. Her devotion to her mother, her willingness to sacrifice everything for her, was beyond admirable.

  “And now, if you’ll excuse us,” Arlan said, getting up from the table, “Brenda and I are going for a walk around the neighborhood.”

  “Can I come?” Addison asked, jumping to her feet. “I can push Mrs. Albertson’s wheelchair. I’ll be really careful.”

  “Of course you can,” Renee’s mother said, holding her hand out to Addison. “But you don’t need to push the wheelchair unless my arms get tired.”

  Then Addison looked at the table behind her. “Who is going to clean up?”

  “I can.”

  Tate and Renee spoke at the same time.

  “Good. That’s settled, then.” Arlan rubbed his hands as if everything was going according to plan, and again Tate wondered what his father was up to.

  “When will you be back?” Renee asked, laying her napkin down and pushing away from the table.

  “I’m sure there’s no rush,” Mrs. Albertson said, looking over at Renee with a smile that created a twist of apprehension in Tate’s stomach. How long was he going to be alone with Renee?

  “Do you need help getting the chair out of the house?” Renee asked, making a move to follow them.

  “We’ll be okay,” Arlan said.

  Then, with a self-satisfied grin, his father followed Mrs. Albertson out of the room.

  Renee watched them leave, her head craned as the front door shut behind them.

  Tate heard the muffled rumble of the wheelchair on the metal ramps they had borrowed from a neighbor, then Renee returned, her hands twisted together as she looked over the remnants of lunch.

  “You go relax in the living room,” Tate said, holding up his hand to forestall the protest he saw forming on Renee’s face. “It’s Mother’s Day. You aren’t doing the dishes.”

  “I don’t mind helping. What else would I do?”

  Tate wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to be so close to Renee for that long, but she was already busy gathering up the leftover food. He stacked up the dirty plates and followed her into the kitchen.

  “The food was really good,” she said as she set the platter of leftover chicken skewers and artichoke dip onto the tiny kitchen counter.

  “I’m sure as a longtime resident of Rockyview you recognized Kerry’s menu items,” Tate said with a wry note in his voice as he pulled open the dishwasher.

  “Mom often orders the dip when we go to Mug Shots.” Renee gave him a quick smile, and for a moment the tension permeating the meal dissipated.

  Renee pushed up the sleeves of her brown blazer and turned on the faucet to rinse the dishes while Tate took care of the leftovers. She turned to Tate, her expression suddenly serious.

  His heart jumping in his chest, his mind slipped back to the kiss they had shared yesterday.

  Don’t go there, he reminded himself.

  “So, I hate to sound old-fashioned, but what are your father’s intentions?”

  Tate blinked, trying to wrap his head around this sudden shift in their conversation as he dumped the leftover dip into a plastic container. “What?”

  “I just need to know what’s happening,” Renee said, a flush creeping up her neck as she ran the dirty plates under the water. “We are supposed to leave in a couple of months for the therapy program in Vancouver, and...I don’t want my mom distracted by...other things.”

  “Other things meaning my father?” Tate asked.

  Renee nodded, and Tate finally realized what she was implying. “You think my dad has a thing for your mom?” he asked, leaning back against the counter, his arms folded over his chest.

  Renee carefully set the plates in the open dishwasher as she shrugged. “What else could it be? I mean, first it was the lunch at Mug Shots. Now this. I’ve caught him looking at her a couple times and not like a friend.”

  Tate scratched his temple with his index finger, feeling suddenly awkward, then figured he may as well stop dithering. “Actually, I thought he was trying to get us together.”

  Renee’s hands paused, her flush deepening on her face, but she kept her attention on what she was doing.

  “He’s told me plenty of times what a wonderful person you are.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Tate wished he could pull them back, especially after she had made it perfectly clear that she was leaving Rockyview soon.

  “Your father has a convenient memory,” she muttered.

  He wondered what she meant by that.

  “At any rate, I think my father is trying to play matchmaker,” Tate said. “For us.”

  Renee looked at him, and when their eyes met, it was as if an electrical current hummed between them.

  Yesterday she had shown a side of herself that, he suspected, no one else had ever seen. A bond between them had been created that couldn’t be easily ignored or swept aside.

  “And here I thought he was making a move on my mother,” Renee said, her voice breathless. She laughed, and Tate felt the awareness between them as real as a touch.

  “For all I know, he might be doing that, too,” Tate said. “Like any lawyer worth his salary, he does know how to multitask.”

  “I hope not,” Renee said quietly.

  “I understand your objections given your other plans, but at the same time I’m glad you and your mother came over today,” Tate said quietly. “It’s good to spend more time with you.”

  Renee exhaled. “About yesterday—”

  Tate stopped her by holding up his hand. “I don’t think we need to talk about yesterday.” He didn’t want to hear her regrets or analyze the reasons he shouldn’t have done what he did.

  Then her lips shifted into a smile, igniting the faint spark glowing in his soul.

  “It’s complicated,” was all she could say.

  Tate knew that. The counselor he’d been seeing with Addison after Molly’s death had warned him against bringing women into Addison’s life who he wasn’t serious about.

  Not that Tate had any desire to date anyone after his mi
serable marriage. But now it seemed he was on the verge of falling for his daughter’s natural mother.

  When she looked up at him, he saw a yearning in her eyes that called to the loneliness in his own soul. Ignoring the warning bells pealing in his head, he moved closer, caught her head with his hand and brushed a kiss, first over her forehead, then she shifted and their lips met, held.

  They both pulled away at the same time. “I don’t think... I’m not sure...” She paused, one hand resting on her chest, as if holding on to her heart.

  “I’m not, either,” he countered.

  “This is so complicated,” she said quietly, her fingers lightly touching the material of his shirt. “Confusing and yet—”

  “It feels right, doesn’t it?”

  “But Addison is part of this all,” she said. “I can’t forget about her and neither should you.”

  “It’s because I’m not forgetting about her that I’m thinking this way.” He struggled a moment with his reactions to Renee and the tangle of his emotions. But one thing slowly became clear. “I know how this all looks. But Addison is my daughter and your daughter. Why shouldn’t we be together?”

  “It seems too perfect,” she agreed.

  “So this brings us back to where we started. What do we do?”

  Renee bit her lip as if thinking. Then she pulled back.

  “Wait and see, I think.”

  Tate wasn’t sure how to respond to her ambiguous comment. Then Renee spoke again.

  “I better go see how my mother is doing,” she said, her voice quiet, determined.

  But Tate noticed her hands were trembling as she dried them on a towel, then pushed the sleeves of her blazer down. Without another glance his way, she left.

  Tate leaned on the counter. He had been so careful. He had guarded his heart not only this past year, but the last few years of his and Molly’s marriage, when their relationship had started falling apart. When every interaction with her would end in frustration and anger.

  The past few weeks had been amazing, spending time with a woman who was sensitive, caring, kind and a Christian.

  All the things he thought he had found in Molly.

  Did he dare try again? Did he dare put his and Addison’s happiness on the line?

  He wished he knew for sure what he was supposed to do. Because whatever he did would have repercussions not only for Addison, but his own wounded and lonely heart.

  Chapter Nine

  “Renee. Are you busy?”

  Renee looked up from the clipboard she was scribbling on just as her mother wheeled herself around the corner of the shelving unit.

  “Not super busy. Just getting some inventory lists together for Cathy. If and when we can ever get this store sold.” Renee flipped through the packages of stickers hanging on a hook, counting them as she went, then wrote the amount on the paper attached to the clipboard. She was forging on as if everything was going through. Too much had been happening the past month, and the only way she could keep her balance was to keep her eye on the goal she and her mother had been working toward for the past four years.

  “Can we go to the back of the store? I want some privacy.”

  “Sounds serious.” Renee stood aside as her mother wheeled herself down the aisle.

  Her mother didn’t say anything, and Renee ignored the tinkle of the electronic bell announcing that another customer was coming into the store. Most customers liked to browse before they needed help. She had some time.

  They went into the room, and Renee felt a tiny pang of nostalgia. Addison had finished her scrapbook. No more visits from the little girl.

  Or her father.

  The thought created the usual stew of emotions. Regret and anticipation. Worry and hope. Affection...

  She caught herself right there as she carefully closed the door of the back room. Her mother had spun her wheelchair around and was leaning forward, her elbows resting on the arms.

  Her mom’s cheeks were flushed. Her expression animated. Her eyes bright, enhanced by the pink shirt she had chosen to wear this morning. Brenda usually preferred practical brown or gray. Colors that wouldn’t get dirty.

  “I want to talk to you about the therapy program,” Brenda began. “I was doing some more research about it.”

  “That’s good,” Renee said, sitting down on a chair across from her so they were at eye level. “It’s good to be informed.”

  “A little too informed,” her mom said, taking Renee’s hand and holding it between her own. “I’m concerned about the time commitment. It might take more than a year, and that’s only if everything goes well.”

  “We talked about that,” Renee said, squeezing her mother’s hand. “The therapy team told us that you are a good candidate.”

  Brenda nodded slowly, as if absorbing this information. “Yes. But I’ve been in this wheelchair for eight years. And I know that every year I’ve spent here means my muscles have atrophied that much more, in spite of the exercises we’ve been doing.”

  “That’s why they warned us that it would take a year to a year and a half.” Three weeks ago it would have simply been twelve to sixteen months she would carve out of her life for her mother.

  But now?

  Images of Tate slid through her mind.

  Did she dare hope that something important was beginning between them?

  And what about Addison? Renee had already missed so much of her life—could she really walk away from her so easily?

  Her mother sighed gently. “What would you say if I told you I don’t want to leave Rockyview? That I don’t want to enroll in the program?”

  It took a few moments for Brenda’s words to sink in.

  “What? Why wouldn’t you want to do this?” Renee asked. “It’ll get you out of your wheelchair. You’ll be able to walk again.”

  “Maybe, and maybe not. Even if I could walk again, there’s no guarantee I won’t need a walker to help me. I’ll still have limited mobility.”

  Renee fought the reservations that always rose up when reality and her dreams for her mother collided. “The therapist gave us decent odds. About sixty to seventy percent mobility.”

  “With a thirty to forty percent chance that nothing will change,” her mother continued. “I think the cost is too great for the return.”

  Renee knew the odds. Those thoughts had circulated ever since they’d visited the clinic six months ago. “But the therapy is noninvasive, and what do you have to lose if it works?”

  “Over a year of our lives and giving up everything we’ve built up here on a chance. A possibility.” Her mother leaned forward, her eyes bright. “I know it’s a dream of yours, and, for a while, it was a dream of mine. But I also know how many dreams this store and the business has fulfilled for you.”

  This store had been a uniting factor for the two of them. They had spent many therapeutic hours planning, buying inventory, starting up classes, expanding the business into custom printing and design. That the store did so well spoke to how well they worked together.

  “I’ve always had a bigger dream, Mom. To see you walk again.”

  “I know that. But my dreams have changed recently.”

  Renee felt an agitated undertow of resistance at what she was saying. But beneath all that, she felt the faintest drift of...relief?

  If Brenda didn’t want to leave Rockyview, they could stay. Their life would go on.

  Could something really happen now between her and Tate? If she and her mother didn’t leave town for the therapy program, they would have time to explore the growing feelings between them.

  But how could she condone such a drastic change in their plans? Plans she had made for her mother’s own good.

  “What’s changed?” Renee asked, confusion battling with the myriad other emotions she was experiencing.

  Brenda blushed, then looked down. “I can’t tell you right now. It’s too soon.”

  “Too soon for what? Can you be any more vague?”

&n
bsp; “Don’t be flip. I just can’t tell you right now.”

  “Mom, you’re talking about putting off something we’ve discussed repeatedly. Plans we’ve made for the past three, four years.”

  “I know, but I feel as though I’m seeing things more clearly. We both know this store isn’t selling, and it’s causing pressure for you. We might not meet the deadline.”

  “We can borrow the money.”

  Her mother gave her a patient look. “We’ve looked into that option, and you know it’s not going to happen. So, speak to the chief therapist. Ask him if they can put the program off for a couple of months. Even a year.”

  “A year? You know how long it took us to get into this program? There might not be a space coming up for a couple of years again.”

  “Then I’ll call them. Tell them I’m dropping out.”

  Renee recognized the look in her mother’s eyes. It was the same one Renee got when she wanted to do something and her mother wouldn’t let her.

  “Can you give me a good reason for this sudden change of heart? Something more than ‘it’s too soon’?”

  Her mother held up her hand in a stop gesture. “Call the doctor and tell him to postpone it.”

  Her mother’s comments reinforced the doubts Renee had stifled ever since their initial visit to the specialist who had spoken to them about the therapy. But she had spent so much time and energy on this, she didn’t feel she could give up without a fight.

  “We’ll be having a conference call with the chief therapist and his assistants next Thursday, and I’ll bring it up then. Before I do that, however, I want you to really think about this and pray about it, and I’ll do the same. We’ll talk again in a few days.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing already?” Renee accepted the faint reprimand with a slight inclination of her head.

  “I’m sure you have been, Mom,” Renee said, reaching over to take her mother’s hand between hers and squeeze it. “You know this program has repercussions for me, as well.”

  “And a lot of obligation.” Her mother reached over with her other hand and stroked Renee’s hair away from her face. “You are an amazing daughter, Renee. I thank the Lord every day for you,” she said quietly. Then she wheeled herself backward, spun around, opened the door and headed out of the room.