her wondering what this walk was all about.
Approaching a dim streetlight at the corner, she said, “Did you want to discuss the email I sent you?”
He glanced her way, his expression somber. “You sent me an email?”
“I told you I would.”
Again looking straight ahead, he said, “I haven’t checked. Had other stuff on my mind.”
Okay, then what—
Hands in his pockets, he kept walking. “I’m curious—why isn’t Kenzie’s father raising her?”
“What?” How dare he ask something so personal?
“I mean, typically when one parent passes, the other assumes custody.”
“Unless there’s a will that stipulates otherwise. Kenzie’s father wanted nothing to do with her. My sister wanted me to raise Kenzie. Not that it’s any business of yours.”
“Were you planning to keep it a secret like Marissa did?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What secret?”
“That I’m Kenzie’s father.”
Dumbfounded, she stopped and simply stared at him. “If you’re trying to be funny, you missed the mark by a long shot.”
He stared back at her. “No, I’m quite serious.”
Not to mention crazy. She shook her head. “Did you not pay attention in ninth grade biology? It only takes nine months to have a baby. It’s been sixteen years since you and Marissa were a couple, so even if you had—”
“Marissa came to Hawaii.” The intensity of his gaze heightened and bore straight into her. “The February before Kenzie was born. But then you probably knew that.”
Her mind raced to keep up. Of course, she remembered her sister’s trip. Marissa and Grant had just broken up for the umpteenth time.
“I was there with the navy,” Matt continued. “I spent the week showing her around Oahu. And then...” He turned away as though embarrassed.
She burrowed her hands deeper into her coat. Her sister never said anything about seeing Matt. And as she recalled, Marissa and Grant got back together shortly after she returned from her trip.
February? She ticked off the months on her frozen fingers. March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, Novem...
A sickening flurry of emotions began to churn in her belly, spaghetti and chocolate cake morphing into a lead weight. She swallowed hard as the potential reality of Matt’s confession sank in.
It couldn’t be true, though. Grant was Kenzie’s father. He and Marissa had dated off and on for years. Until shortly before Kenzie was born, when he walked away for good.
She dared a glance at Matt, squaring her shoulders. Marissa would have told her if he was Kenzie’s father. “Matt, I don’t know how you came up with such a crazy notion, but I can assure you that you are not Kenzie’s father.”
He twisted toward her. “Really? Then how do you explain this?” He held out a five-by-seven photo. A little boy with dark eyes alight with amusement and dark brown hair that had been combed back to reveal a slight widow’s peak... Just like Kenzie. “That’s me at four years old. When your mother introduced me to Kenzie earlier today, I felt as though I’d met her before. I didn’t get it at first. Until you told me how old she was.” His voice cracked. “I’m not imagining this, Lace. I truly believe that Kenzie is my daughter.”
She stared at the photo, feeling as though she might be sick. Grant was as fair-haired as Marissa had been, with eyes just as blue. Why hadn’t her sister told her she saw Matt? That there was a possibility he could be Kenzie’s father?
She looked away. It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true. Jutting her chin into the frigid air, she glared right at Matt. “It’s not true.” Then, before he could say another word, she turned and ran back home.
* * *
Thanks to Lacie’s abrupt departure last night, sleep had evaded Matt. Now as midafternoon approached, he was starting to feel the effects. Unfortunately, his shift wasn’t over for another three hours.
Under what he would normally consider a beautiful blue sky, he maneuvered his Tahoe through the neighboring town of Ridgway, eyeing the jagged, snow-covered peaks of the Cimarrons to the east. He wanted to kick himself for accusing Lacie of hiding Kenzie’s paternity, when it was obvious she was as shocked by the revelation as he was. What he couldn’t figure out, though, was why she refused to believe him.
Because maybe you’re not Kenzie’s father.
Yet he’d gone off half-cocked with no concrete proof to back up his supposition.
Anyone could tell you were a Stephens.
The image of Kenzie’s face haunted him. Wouldn’t a father know his own child? After all, it wasn’t like he was looking to be a dad. And while the evidence he had was circumstantial, it all added up and was impossible to ignore. At least until he had proof to the contrary.
So where did he go from here? And how was he going to convince Lacie that he wasn’t crazy?
His radio went off. Possible poachers. He waited for the address, cringing when it came. He did not need this today. Or any other day, for that matter. With the mood he was in, the last person he wanted to see was his father.
Why’d he have to call while Matt was the only deputy on duty? Couldn’t he have waited a few more hours for the next shift? Sure, it would be dark, but at least he’d have been off the hook.
Bound by duty, he reluctantly responded to dispatch and headed south on Highway 550. God, I’m going to need Your help.
Ten minutes later, his vehicle bumped across the cattle guard beneath the arched metal sign that read Abundant Blessings Ranch. He crept up the long gravel drive, praying that perhaps it had been his oldest brother, Noah, who’d made the call. Yet as he passed the recently expanded stable, his hopes were dashed when he glimpsed Noah tending the horses. He thought about stopping to check, but knew he’d simply be postponing the inevitable.
Approaching the ranch house, memories of that day nearly three years ago filled his mind. All he’d wanted to do was make Mama happy. And he had. For a short time, she’d forgotten the pain and weakness that had plagued her for months.
But Dad didn’t see it that way. Are you trying to kill her?
Ten days later, she was gone. The cancer had finally gotten the better of her.
Just then he spotted his father exiting the new barn his brother Andrew had built over the summer.
You’re nothing but a screwup, Matt. Always have been, always will be.
Clint Stephens’s words didn’t sting quite as much today as they had when he’d first spat them at Matt. And while Matt tried to pretend his father’s opinion didn’t matter, it seemed he’d been trying to disprove his father ever
