drove up the lane toward his house.
“Were you expecting company?” she asked.
“Don’t think so.” He frowned as the car pulled up beside them—and his frown intensified when the passenger door opened and a girl jumped out, then raced toward him. “Daddy!”
He stared at his eleven-year-old daughter, dressed to the nines in an outfit more suited to a photo shoot for a children’s clothing store than for a working cattle ranch.
“Adaline! What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you until next weekend.”
“I know, Dad! Isn’t it great? We get extra time together—maybe even two whole weeks! Mom pulled me out of school until after Christmas. Isn’t that awesome? My teachers are going to email me all my homework so I don’t miss too much—not that they ever do anything the last few weeks before Christmas vacation anyway but waste time showing movies and doing busywork and stuff.”
That sounded like a direct quote from her mother, who had little respect for the educational system, even the expensive private school she insisted on sending their daughter to.
As if on cue, his ex-wife climbed out of the driver’s side of what must be a new vehicle, judging by the temporary license plates in the window.
She looked uncharacteristically disordered, with her sweater askew and her hair a little messy in back where she must have been leaning against the headrest as she drove.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” she said. “We took a chance. I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon. Why didn’t you answer?”
“My phone ran out of juice and I forgot to take the charger to the auction with us. What’s going on?”
He knew it had to be something dramatic for her to bring Addie all this way on an unscheduled midweek visit.
Cindy frowned. “My mother had a stroke early this morning and she’s in the hospital in Idaho Falls.”
“Oh, no! I hadn’t heard. I’m so sorry.”
He had tried very hard to earn the approval of his in-laws but the president of the Pine Gulch bank and his wife had been very slow to warm up to him. He didn’t know if they had disliked him because Cindy had been pregnant when they married or because they didn’t think a cattle rancher with cow manure on his boots was good enough for their precious only child.
They had reached a peace accord of sorts after Addie came along. Still, he almost thought his and Cindy’s divorce had been a relief to them—and he had no doubt they had been thrilled at her second marriage to an eminently successful oral surgeon in Boise.
“The doctors say it appears to be a mini stroke. They suspect it’s not the first one so they want to keep her for observation for a few days. My dad said I didn’t have to come down but it seemed like the right thing to do,” Cindy said. “Considering I was coming this way anyway, I didn’t think you would mind having extra visitation with Addie, especially since she won’t be here over the holidays.”
He was aware of a familiar pang in his chest, probably no different from what most part-time divorced fathers felt at not being able to live with their children all the time. Holidays were the worst.
“Sure. Extra time is always great.”
Cindy turned to Faith with that hard look she always wore when she saw the two of them together. His ex-wife had never said anything but he suspected she had long guessed the feelings he had tried to bury after Faith and Travis got married.
“We’re interrupting,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Not at all,” Faith assured her. “Please don’t be sorry. I’m the one who’s sorry about your mother.”
“Thanks,” Cindy said, her voice cool. “We spent an hour at the hospital before we came out here and she seems in good spirits. Doctors just want to keep her for observation to see if they can figure out what’s going on. Dad is kind of a mess right now, which is why I thought it would be a good idea for me to stay with him, at least for the first few days.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“Thanks for taking Addie. Sorry to drop her off without calling first. I did try.”
“It’s no problem at all. I’m thrilled to have her.”
The sad truth was, they got along and seemed to parent together better now that they were divorced than during the difficult five years of their marriage, though things still weren’t perfect.
“I packed enough for a week. To be honest, I don’t know what I grabbed, since I was kind of a mess this morning. Keith was worried about me driving alone but he had three surgeries scheduled today and couldn’t come with me. His patients needed him.”
“He’s a busy man,” Chase said. What else could he say? It would have been terribly hypocritical to lambast another man in the husband department when Chase had been so very lousy at it.
“I should get back to the hospital. Thanks, Chase. You’re a lifesaver.”
“No problem.”
“I’m so sorry about your mother,” Faith said.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Cindy opened the hatchback of the SUV and pulled out Addie’s familiar pink suitcase. He hated the tangible reminder that his daughter had to live out of a suitcase half her life.
After setting the suitcase on the sidewalk, Cindy went through her usual drawn-out farewell routine with Addie that ended in a big hug and a sloppy kiss, then climbed into her SUV and drove away.
“My feet are cold,” Addie announced calmly, apparently not fazed at all to watch her mother leave, despite the requisite drama. “I’m going to take my suitcase to my room and change my clothes.”
She headed to the house without waiting for him to answer, leaving him alone with Faith.
“That was a curveball I wasn’t expecting this afternoon,”
“Strokes can be scary,” Faith said. “It sounds like Carol’s was a mild one, though, which I’m sure is a relief to everyone. At least you’ll get to spend a little extra time with Addie.”
“True. Always a bonus.”
He had plenty of regrets about his life but his wise, funny, kind daughter was the one amazing thing his lousy marriage had produced.
“I know this was a busy week for you,” Faith said. “If you need help with her, she’s welcome to spend time at the Star N. Louisa would be completely thrilled.”
He had appointments all week with suppliers, the vet and his accountant, but he could take her with him. She was a remarkably adaptable child.
“The only time I might need help is Friday night. Think
