blew him a kiss and hurried to her room. The sooner she got back downstairs, the sooner she’d know if this amiable welcome was the real deal…or a temporary truce.
Real, she hoped, because she would need his emotional support these next few months, even if it might come at the price of seeing his disappointment yet again. How would she tell him that, in yet another characteristically impulsive move, she’d exchanged “I do’s” with a movie stuntman in a gaudy Vegas wedding chapel? And it wouldn’t just be the non- Christian ceremony he’d disapprove of.
When Reid had asked earlier if she had a husband and children, her heart had skipped a beat. For a reason she couldn’t explain, it mattered what Reid thought of her. Mattered very much. So much so, in fact, that though she’d enjoyed his company, she’d rather never see him again than risk having him discover the truth about her. And if a stranger’s opinion mattered that greatly, how much more difficult would it be to live with her dad’s reaction!
For the past four months, since learning of Rusty’s death and the baby’s existence, Cammi had spent hours thinking up ways to break the news to her father. She’d hoped an idea would come to her during the long, quiet drive from California to Texas. Sadly, she still didn’t have a clue how to tell him that in just five short months, his first grandchild would be born.
Lamont would be a terrific grandfather, what with his natural storytelling ability and his gentle demeanor. If only he could learn he was about to become a grandpa in the traditional way, instead of being clubbed over the head with the news.
What Cammi needed was a buffer, someone who’d distract him, temporarily, anyway, from asking questions that had no good answers. “Hey, Dad,” she called from the top step, “where’s Lily? I sort of expected she’d be the one bounding down the front walk when I got home…with some critter wrapped around her neck.”
“Matter of fact, she’s in the barn, nursing one of those critters right now.”
Lily was the only London daughter who’d never left home. A math whiz and avid animal lover, the twenty-four-year-old more or less ran River Valley Ranch. “As much time as she spends with her animals,” Cammi said, “I’ll never understand how she manages to keep your ledger books straight.”
“That makes two of us,” Lamont said, laughing.
She ducked into her room, telling herself that if she survived coffee with her dad, she’d pay Lily and her critter a little visit. Maybe her kid sister would drop a hint or two that would help Cammi find a good way to tell them…everything.
A shiver snaked up her spine when she admitted there was no good way.
Lamont’s back was to her when she rounded the corner a short while later, reminding Cammi of that night so many years ago, when she’d padded downstairs in pajamas and fuzzy slippers. “Dad,” she’d whimpered, rubbing her eyes toddlerlike despite being twelve years old, “I can’t sleep.”
When he’d turned from the kitchen sink, his redrimmed eyes were proof that he hadn’t been able to sleep, either, that he’d been crying, too. “C’mere, sweetie,” he’d said, arms extended as he settled onto the caned seat of a ladder-back chair.
She’d ignored the self-imposed rule that said a soon-to-be teenager was too old to climb into her daddy’s lap, and snuggled close, cheek resting on the soft, warm flannel of his blue plaid shirt, and closed her eyes, inhaling the crisp spicy scent of his manly aftershave.
Even now, all grown up and carrying a child of her own, she remembered how safe she’d always felt when those big arms wrapped around her, how soothing it was when his thick, clumsy fingers combed through her curls. Her unborn baby deserved to feel safe and protected that way, too; had her impulsive lifestyle made that impossible? Could Lamont accept what she’d done, at least enough not to hold it against his grandchild?
It hadn’t been hard to read his mind that night, the eve of Rose’s funeral. What was going through his mind now? Cammi wondered. Had looking through the rain-streaked window at his long-deceased wife’s autumn-yellowed hydrangeas conjured a painful memory? Had the moon, which painted a shimmering silver border around each slate-gray cloud, reminded him how much the mother of his children had always enjoyed thunderstorms?
She wouldn’t tell him about Rusty and the baby tonight. Tomorrow or the next day would be more than soon enough to add to his sadness. There’s a time and a place for everything, she told herself. And sensing he’d be embarrassed if she walked in and caught him woolgathering, Cammi backed up a few steps, cleared her throat and made a noisy entrance.
“Hey, Dad,” she said brightly, shuffling into the kitchen on white-socked feet. “Coffee ready?”
He masked his melancholy well, she thought as he turned and smiled.
“Sure is,” Lamont said. “Still drink it straight-n-plain?”
“Yessir.”
“We Londons are tough, so save the milk and sugar for kindergarten kids!” they said in unison.
Laughing, father and daughter sat across from one another at the table. A moment passed, then two, before Cammi said, “So how’ve you been, Dad?”
“Fine, fine.” He nodded, then reached across the table, blanketed her hand with his. “Question is, how’re you?”
She looked into gray eyes that glittered with fatherly love and concern. There were a few more lines around them than she remembered, but then, worrying about her had probably put every one of them there. Cammi felt overwhelmed by guilt. He’d worked so hard to provide for his girls, all while doing his level best to be both mother and father to them. He deserved far better than what she’d always given him.
“I’d hoped to accomplish something out there—” she blurted. “Something that would make you really proud of—”
“You’ve always made me proud,” Lamont interrupted, “just being you. You know that.”
She didn’t know anything of the kind, especially since her mother’s accident, but it still felt good, real good, to hear him say it. Suddenly, she found herself fighting tears.
Lamont gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. “I told you before you left home that those Tinsel Town phonies didn’t have enough accumulated brain matter to power a lightbulb.”
He’d said that and then some!
“So how’d you expect dunderheads like that to have enough sense to see what a great li’l gal you are!” He patted her hand, then added, “I know you gave it your all, sweetie. If your best wasn’t good enough for ’em, well…” He lifted his chin a notch. “Well, that’s their loss.”
So he thought her failure to land any decent roles in L.A. was responsible for her dour mood. Cammi was about to set the record straight when Lamont said, “You did the right thing, coming home. You have any idea what you’ll do now that you’re back?”
Lamont’s question implied she was home to stay, and he was right. This baby growing steadily inside her deserved a stable home, deserved to be raised in a house where it would be treasured, and protected and nurtured by a big loving family. It didn’t matter one whit what was good for her; from the moment she’d learned of its existence, Cammi had put the baby first, always, and that meant giving up her crazy ideas
