Daddy?”
“Invincible,” the man supplied. His lips twisted on the word.
The child repeated it with an adorable lisp while Jake’s expression turned rueful.
His gaze was on his brother when he said, “I’m no hero, super or otherwise.”
He set both of the kids down, even as the couple on the couch and the older man in the rocker rose and stepped forward.
Caro sensed a second meaning to Jake’s words that made her curious, but she didn’t comment on it. She was a guest, one even less welcome than his family apparently was. The underlying tension here was impossible to miss.
No matter, she assured herself. She would be on her way as soon as the snow slowed down and a wrecker could pull out her car.
Which reminded her. “Excuse me, can I use your telephone?”
Before Jake could answer, the little boy asked, “Who’s this, Uncle Jake?”
She didn’t wait to be introduced. “I’m Caro. Your uncle may not be a superhero, but he did rescue me from the storm. My car got stuck in a drift.”
It was a little bit more than stuck, but she mentally crossed her fingers that whatever damage the front had sustained could be repaired without too much fuss.
Jake glanced sharply in her direction. An odd mix of anger and bewilderment colored his expression.
“Right place, right time,” he mumbled. He was back to the surly man who’d first stumbled across her, leaving her to wonder what she’d said to irritate him.
“I’m Jillian,” the little girl said. She stuck out her hand, which Caro shook. “I’m six and I have a loose tooth. Want to see?”
Without waiting for a reply, Jillian opened her mouth and used the tip of her tongue to wiggle one of her top front teeth. Her already-adorable lisp was going to become even more pronounced soon, Caro thought.
“Jilly,” reprimanded the woman from the couch, who was now, along with the man Caro assumed was Jake’s brother and the older man, gathered around Caro in a semicircle, smiling politely even as they stared openly. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s all right. A loose tooth is pretty exciting news for a child.”
Jake cleared his throat and apparently remembered his manners. “Caro, this is my sister-in-law, Bonnie, and my brother, Dean. You’ve met Jillian, of course. Her brother is Riley.”
“I’m almost five,” Riley informed Caro, holding up the corresponding number of digits.
Jillian rolled her eyes. “He just turned four last week.”
Only children were so eager to add a year to their age. Caro bent down to shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Riley.”
The boy’s wide grin revealed a pair of dimples that melted Caro’s heart. Cabot had dimples.
“And this is my father, Martin McCabe,” Jake was saying.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. McCabe.” Her hand was swallowed up in one of Martin’s giant paws.
“Likewise.”
Doreen returned then with a couple of towels, making Caro aware of how bedraggled she must look. Truman and his mother would be appalled that she was standing in a roomful of strangers looking like something the cat had dragged in. But then the Wendells wouldn’t socialize with people like the McCabes in the first place. Unless she missed her guess, they weren’t blue-blooded snobs who sat around at dry dinner parties discussing investment strategies, mutual funds and which couples in their social class had failed to make a killing in the stock market.
The McCabes, she realized, were more like her parents had been, down-to-earth folks who valued family, God and country.
The old ache throbbed to life a second time, a little more pronounced. She wrapped her arms about herself, seeking comfort she knew from experience wouldn’t come.
“Good heavens, child! You’re shaking. Get closer to the fire,” Doreen instructed.
“I’m fine,” Caro began. Her protest was lost as the older woman began issuing orders.
“Martin, throw another log on the fire. Dean, give the poor girl the afghan from the couch.” She eyed Caro a moment before continuing. “Bonnie should have something to fit you even though you’re a bit taller.” The older woman’s lips pursed. “And a little on the thin side.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Then what were you thinking heading out in a snowstorm?” Jake demanded.
His mother gasped, presumably at his rude question and not-so-nice tone. It was his tone, as much as his words, that caused Caro’s spine to straighten. Her hands dropped to her sides where her hands fisted.
“I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Not in a storm, you don’t.”
“Jacob!”
They both ignored Doreen’s shout.
“Storm or no storm, it’s important.”
“Nothing is that important,” he drawled. “Trust me.”
“This is.” Thinking of Cabot and Truman’s stipulations, Caro swallowed a sob. It wouldn’t do to fall apart now. “I have … a deadline to meet.”
“Work?” He snorted in disgust. “You risked your life for work?”
Let him think what he would. “Unlike you, I wasn’t out in a blizzard to ride a horse.”
She felt exhilarated, having given as good as she’d got. Meekness no longer suited her. In truth, it never had. But numb as she’d been for four years, first from grief and later from disbelief, she’d fallen into the ill-fitting role. God help her, she would don it again if need be.
That thought had her sobering.
Jake gaped at her, his wide mouth going slack for just a second before his lips pressed together in a flat line. She heard Dean’s muffled laughter and a glance around confirmed that the rest of the McCabe clan found her dressing-down of one of their members amusing rather than in poor taste. Even so, Caro was appalled. Whether the man had it coming or not, she was being unforgivably rude.
“I’m sorry. I … I …”
Jake unclamped his jaw just enough to say, “You mentioned something earlier about needing to make a phone call.”
“Yes. My cell’s not picking up a signal.”
“Follow me.”
Doreen settled the afghan around Caro’s shoulders. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “My son’s bark is a lot worse than his bite.”
Not
