North Country Dad

At least his car had arrived on yesterday’s train so he could drive. Lives was situated just far enough out of town that walking there with two five-year-olds would be impossible.

“We’ll behave,” Glory promised.

“Put your crayons and coloring pads in your backpacks. You can work on those, but you can’t interrupt. Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” They nodded with serious faces.

Daddy. Why did he always feel like an imposter when they called him that? Maybe it had something to do with his most recent failures.

Today the twins had begun kindergarten. He’d been so busy setting up his office at the high school that he’d forgotten to buy their supplies. Eva would have made sure they were prepared, maybe even had their hair trimmed. Heaven knew Grant craved shorter hair for the twins. The endless combing, snarls, braids—all of it made him feel even more of a klutz. But he couldn’t bring himself to cut those glorious curls.

Tomorrow he’d go to the northern general store and buy everything on the list the teacher had sent home for him. She’d been understanding, but Grant hated looking so incompetent. He doubted any of the other parents had sent their kids to school without supplies.

Then there were clothes. The twins were still wearing things they’d clearly grown out of. He should have stretched his funds, cut back more, done something in order to outfit them better, but he couldn’t help that now. They’d have to make do until a paycheck came in, though everyone in town would probably be talking about the shredded knees of their pants. Add mending to the list of things he couldn’t do.

When they got to Lives, the twins bounded out of the car, happy and excited. They’d taken to Laurel immediately when she’d appeared yesterday with a welcome cake, but Grant wasn’t sure how Grace and Glory would react to the boys. Maybe he could get the girls to stay in the kitchen while he met with them.

“I thought we’d all sit around the kitchen table,” Laurel told him, dashing his hopes as they walked in.

The boys were in the midst of enjoying a snack. Silence fell when he entered with the girls. As usual, Grace and Glory won over their audience quickly, and it wasn’t long before the boys were plying the twins with food. When they were finished, Grant thought he saw regret on the boys’ faces when he situated the twins at a table in the corner to color.

“Remember now, no interrupting,” he reminded softly.

“We won’t, Daddy,” they chirped together.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized to Laurel. “I don’t have a babysitter yet.”

“They’re no problem. Now, let me introduce you properly,” Laurel said. “This is David, Marten, Arlen, Kris and Kent. They’re all new to Lives. This is Rod—he’s been here for a while.”

“Nice to meet you,” Grant said, taking in details about each of the boys.

David, Martin and Kent were towheaded preteens who looked nervous and scared. Grant guessed they’d been talked into committing some offense and had been sentenced to Lives with the hope that one term would be enough to straighten them out. Kris stood next to Arlen, and had adopted Arlen’s bored expression. It was an expression Grant had seen many times before. Rod was the only boy who looked perfectly comfortable.

“I’m Grant. I hope we’ll all work well together,” he said with a smile.

“What exactly are we working toward?” Arlen made no effort to conceal his surliness.

“Lives operates on respect, Arlen,” Laurel reminded quietly but firmly.

“So you’re the resident shrink,” Arlen said, ignoring her.

“Life skills coach, actually,” Grant corrected in a bland tone. “I’m here to help you figure out what you want in your future.”

“Money, power, fame,” Arlen joked. He grinned when Kris snickered but his eyes never left Grant.

“That’s all you want?” Grant held the boy’s glare. “It shouldn’t take us long then.”

“You think it’s that easy to get those?” Arlen barked a laugh then looked to the other boys. “Hey, this guy’s got the secret to life.”

“There’s no secret, Arlen.” Grant leaned back and studied the boy. “If you want money, you get a job. If you want fame, you do something notable. If you want power, you become a leader.”

“Who gets rich from working a job?” Arlen sneered.

“Lots of people. They work, they save and they accumulate. Is money your goal, Arlen?”

“It’s everybody’s goal.” Arlen stretched his legs out and leaned back in his chair.

“Actually, it isn’t,” a voice from behind Grant said.

Grant turned, surprised by the thrill he felt at the sight of Dahlia.

“Lots of people with money are very unhappy.” Dahlia offered Grant an apologetic smile. “Sorry to interrupt.”

The twins rushed to Dahlia, calling her name with glee. She hugged both of them, smoothed their hair and asked about the pictures they were creating.

“Hi, guys,” she said to the boys. They all responded but one. “Hello, Arlen.” She looked directly at the sullen boy. He ignored her. “I should have phoned first,” Dahlia said, her gaze moving to Laurel. “I didn’t realize you were having a session this evening.”

“We’re just talking.” Laurel held up the coffeepot. “Want some?”

“No, thanks.” Dahlia turned to Grant. “May I take the twins outside to play while you finish your discussion?”

“Sure.” Grant noticed how ecstatic the twins were to be with Dahlia, how eagerly they followed her from the room. Was he giving them enough attention?

He waited for Dahlia to escort the girls outside before he steered the conversation back to money. The boys initiated a good discussion about the role of money in their lives, but Grant found he was distracted by the woman playing with the twins outside the big kitchen window.

After half an hour, Grant knew it was time to shut down the group session. He wasn’t doing his best listening and the boys were tiring. He ended on a thinking point and after scribbling a couple of notes, Grant gathered his and the twins’ belongings and said goodbye. When he stepped outside, squeals of laughter greeted him.

“You’re it.” Dahlia tapped him on the shoulder then raced away.

Grant stood in the twilight, a memory weighing him down. Games were not something his father had permitted. In fact, he’d downright disapproved of them. The one time Grant had tried to join a school football league, he’d been severely punished.

Keep your mind on your work, boy. You won’t live here free forever.

Even now, the injustice of it burned inside. All through his childhood he’d slaved to keep the house clean and the yard tidy. He’d even learned to cook simple meals, which his father couldn’t bother with once he’d gotten a bottle in his hand.

“Is something wrong?” Dahlia stood beside him, her face lifted as she searched his gaze.

Those eyes saw too much. He couldn’t bear for her to glimpse that lost part of him that had never quite recovered from his father’s brutality. He shook his head then touched her arm.

“You’re it,” he said.

Though Dahlia smiled, her hazel eyes didn’t have their usual twinkle. They locked on to his and held as a fizzle of current zipped between them, freezing him in place.

“Would you like to go for a coffee?” she asked.

Grant was surprised by how much he wanted to say yes. But the twins danced at his side. “I should get them home to bed,” he said.

“May I help?” The sparkle flashed back into her eyes.

“You want to help with bath time? You’ll get soaked,” he warned.

“It’s happened before. I didn’t melt.” Dahlia teased. “As long as you don’t mind sharing them for a while.”

Mind? He was delighted. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

It turned out Dahlia had ridden her bicycle over to Lives, so Grant loaded it into his trunk. Then they headed home with the twins chattering all the way.

“I’m hungry,” Glory announced to Dahlia. “We had beans for supper. They were yucky. Daddy forgot mommy’s special spices.”

“He burned my toast, too,” Grace added with a baleful look. “Can I have not-burned toast before we go to bed?”

“We’ll see,” Grant said so that Dahlia wouldn’t have to say anything. It was his favorite expression because he never actually had to promise anything. He didn’t make promises anymore, not after promising Eva he’d raise her girls the way she wanted. Look how that was turning out.

“I’m not the world’s greatest cook.” Dahlia tossed Grant a smile. “But I can manage not-burned toast.”

“Easy to say,” he warned. “Just wait until you have helpers.”

Dahlia laughed as if it was the best challenge he could have given her.

When they reached his house and she bounded out of the car, ready to face her test, Grant had two conflicting thoughts in his mind.

He liked this dynamic woman—a lot. And he’d be doing her a favor if he kept his distance.

* * *

Dahlia wasn’t sure what she’d expected Grant’s home to look like, but it wasn’t this. An old sofa and a matching chair covered in a pretty chintz pattern framed a large coffee table, the perfect size for two little girls to sit at and color. In the corner a tidy desk nestled under the window. There was no dust and no mess, yet the room had a lived-in feel, as if people enjoyed each other here.

She allowed herself to be pulled through the house as the girls chattered about their first day at school. It was while Grace and Glory were showing her their room that Dahlia noticed how few clothes they had in their wardrobe. None of them looked warm enough for the cold northern winter that would soon arrive.

After a lively bath time, Dahlia made the girls cinnamon-sugar toast, which they devoured. Then she supervised toothbrushing, read them a story and tucked them into bed, conscious of Grant standing by, watching. As she was about to leave the room, she noticed that Grant seemed tense.

“Good night, girls,” he said, his voice hesitant.

“Kisses first, Daddy,” Glory reminded.

He dutifully bent so that each girl could embrace him, and waited patiently as they plastered kisses across his cheek. But when Grace tipped up her face for his return kiss, Dahlia’s heart squeezed.

A look of pure panic spread across Grant’s face. He hurriedly brushed his lips against Grace’s cheek, and a second later, did the same with Glory. Then he quickly drew away.

A moment later, his composed mask was back in place. But Dahlia had seen the truth.

Grant Adams was scared of his daughters.

She couldn’t think of a thing to say as they moved back into the living room. Grant made tea and poured it, carrying her cup to where she sat in the easy chair. After the silence stretched out too long, he tilted his head and studied her in a quizzical way.

“Why did you choose a hardware store?”

It was exactly the right thing to break the tension that had fallen between them. Dahlia burst out laughing.

“I’m serious. It’s not at all what I’d have guessed you’d do,” he said.

“It’s not that far from architecture,” she mused. “Once I drew plans to build things, now I sell goods to make plans come alive.”

“But don’t you miss the creative part of being an architect?”

“Not really,” she said, only then realizing it was true. “I like the problem-solving aspect of running a hardware store.” She looked directly at him. “Besides, I couldn’t stay in the family firm anymore.”

Dahlia knew he was waiting for an explanation, but she wasn’t sure how much to tell him.

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s painful,” he assured her.

“It is quite painful.” Dahlia cleared her throat, sipped her tea then began. “I trained as an architect because my parents expected me to join their architectural firm. They told me that since Damon was gone, I’d take over.”

“You didn’t want that?”

“I did, more than anything.” She heard the fervency in her own voice and smiled sadly. “I had a lot of dreams for the company. My fiancé, Charles, and I used to talk about the things we’d change, how we’d grow the business.” She looked down into her tea. “I had no idea my parents thought I was incompetent.”

“But—” Grant raised an eyebrow.

“They wanted Charles as CEO. I would be a figurehead, to carry on the family name.” The sting of it was as sharp as it had been four years ago. “I graduated top of my class, well ahead of Charles. I could have taken a fellowship with a prestigious Montréal firm. Instead I went home, because they ‘needed’ me.”

Dahlia couldn’t disguise the bitterness that shone through her words.

“Why would they do that?” Grant asked.

“Because I was too weak, or so they thought.” Dahlia saw confusion on his face and decided to tell him the whole story. “I had cancer as a child. Despite the fact that I got better, my parents always considered me sickly. Fragile. The doctors said I was cured, but my parents never heard that. My entire childhood, they were always on the watch, protecting me from myself.” She exhaled. “Thank goodness for my Granny Beverly.”

Grant sat silently watching her, waiting. That’s what made him good at his job, Dahlia decided. He didn’t have to say a word because you could feel his interest in you.

“Granny Bev was a dragon. She suffered terribly from arthritis, but she came to see me every single day when I was in the hospital. And she always spoke the same message. ‘You are strong, Dally. You can beat this. You can do whatever you put your mind to.’”

“Good ally to have,” he murmured.

“The best.” Dahlia swallowed the lump in her throat. “Because of her, I beat cancer and finished school on the honor roll, though I’d missed more than half the year. Because of Granny Bev, I ignored my parents’ comments about being too delicate for gymnastics, too.” She smiled. “I actually teach it now, twice a week. You should enroll the girls.”

“Maybe I will,” he said.

“I’m a pretty good teacher.” Dahlia knew she sounded proud and she didn’t care. It had been a long, hard road to silence those negative voices that had dragged her down, and she’d succeeded.

Almost.

“Tell me the rest of the story,” Grant prodded.

“I fell in love with Charles at university. He said he loved me, gave me an engagement ring. I thought my life was on track.” She made herself continue though she’d begun to wish she hadn’t started this. Revealing personal details was not her usual style and defending herself even less so. “We both interned at my parents’ firm. They loved Charles. They offered him a job when we finished school.”

“Was he supportive of you?” Grant asked.

“At school, yes. And at first he was a great partner at work.” She paused.

“And then?” Grant nudged.

“Then things began to change.” The understanding in his eyes encouraged her to continue. “Meetings were changed without notifying me. My parents took me off three large commercial projects I’d brought in and gave them to Charles although his specialty had always been residential.”

“You complained?”

“Vehemently. They said they were worried about my health. Charles didn’t want me to be run-down for the wedding. To prove them all wrong, I went out and found three more major clients.” She smiled wryly. “Didn’t do me any good. I caught the flu, which turned into pneumonia. I was out of the office for a week. By the time I came back to work, Charles was acting CEO. I had been given the title of assistant.”

Grant whistled. Dahlia nodded.

“My parents’ explanation was that in two months they would turn the company public so they could retire and travel. They felt Charles was a natural for CEO, but he needed time to prove himself before a new board came in. I was to be the company spokesperson and find new clients, because I was so good at it,” she mocked. “I’d be a figurehead, but Charles was the boss.”

“What did Charles do?”

“Charles pretended it was all a big surprise, that he hadn’t put in a word here and there to make my parents doubt my ability. He’d always promised we’d run the company together, but from the first day I knew who was in charge and it wasn’t me.” She forced a smile. “He said to think of it as a merger that would be cemented when we married. Later I could stay at home and ‘look after myself’ while he ran things.”

Grant tented his fingers under his chin but said nothing. Dahlia continued.

“It took just two weeks before my office was moved off the main floor and I lost all my clients. Charles said he was reorganizing, but I got organized right out. My parents wouldn’t listen to me. In Charles they’d found the son they’d lost.”

“So what did you do?” Grant asked.

“The day the company went public I bought as many shares as I could—enough to get me into the general meeting. The board suggested Charles as CEO. I publicly refused to support him and stated why. A vote was called. Granny Bev, who had also bought shares, voted with me. Charles lost.”

“And your parents?”

“They were furious. I told them how disappointed I was that they’d treated me so poorly.” She exhaled, brushed away a tear and continued. “I told them that I’d prove I am strong enough to build my life and that until they were ready to acknowledge me as a fully capable adult, I didn’t want to see them again.”

“And you haven’t?” he asked when she paused.

“Granny Bev had a stroke the next day. I stayed with her until she died. As soon as her funeral was over, I left. I’ve never gone back.” Dahlia had to stop for a moment. “Before she died, Granny Bev said to me, ‘You are the strongest person I know. Live your life your way, Dally.’ So that’s what I’m doing.”

He nodded, his eyes on her, watching, waiting.

“She left me her stock in my parents’ company. I sold my stock to buy my store here. I’ve never regretted that,” Dahlia added.

“And Charles?”

“I’ve regretted him many times, but I never heard from him again, which is just as well,” she told him.

“So now you’re determined to live by your grandmother’s words,” he mused. “You’re proving you’re smart and strong and capable.”

“Yes.” She frowned at him, hearing something underlying his words. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing at all. I’m just wondering if it’s enough for you.”

“What do you mean?” Dahlia found herself irritated by his words.

“I’ve seen you with the twins. I’ve listened to you talk about Arlen. You have a heart for kids. You love people. You need people.” Grant paused, then quietly said, “Shutting out love because one man hurt you won’t heal your heart.”

“I have lots of love in my life,” she replied defensively. “I have good friends. We support each other. And one day maybe I’ll have a child, too. Perhaps Arlen.”

“Will that prove your strength?” he asked quietly. “Will he be enough to heal the pain Charles and your parents caused?”

Dahlia stared at Grant. Images of the fairy-tale dream from her youth, one she’d never shared with anyone but Damon, played through her mind. A family, motherhood. A husband, laughter, love...

“I don’t know what it will prove,” Dahlia whispered. “I only know I can’t give up everything I’ve worked for. I need to prove myself.”

Grant didn’t say anything for a long time. Tension stretched between them like a taut wire and finally, when Dahlia could stand it no more, she rose.

“I should go home. Thanks for sharing the twins’ bath time with me. It was fun.”

“Not a word I would have used to describe it, but you’re welcome.” He smiled as he escorted her to the door.

She started to say good-night, but instead, she asked, “After all I told you, aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I’m not a judge, Dahlia. You have a right to live your life any way you want. I wonder though—” He paused, not taking his eyes off her.

“Yes?” Dahlia shifted under that stare.

“I wonder if you realize you just described love as making you vulnerable and weak.”

Dahlia felt as if he’d somehow seen right into her heart. Without addressing his comment, she simply said good-night, took her bike from the driveway and rode away, aware that he stood there watching until she turned the corner. Her thoughts were on Grant and what he’d said.

She was embarrassed by how much she’d shared with him, but more than that, she was floored by his observation. Did she really see love as making her weak and vulnerable? She’d certainly been made to feel that way by her parents and Charles.

Then Dahlia wondered if Grant said that to her because he felt the same way.

She remembered the petrified look on his face when the girls were saying good-night to him and decided that whether he knew it or not, she wasn’t the only one who needed help untangling feelings about love.

Perhaps they could actually help each other. Dahlia could offer him assistance with the twins, and he could help her get through to Arlen. Perhaps they could help each other get closer to love.

The question was, was it safe for her to spend time with a man who made her heart beat a little faster simply by studying her with those gray eyes that seemed to look right into her heart?

There was only one way to find out.

Chapter Four

“I guess I don’t understand what Grant’s doing,” Dahlia admitted to Laurel. She glanced around Common Grounds, the local coffee hangout, relieved it was almost empty. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. “He never says very much to them.”

“Grant explained to me that he’s trying to gain the boys’ trust first, by listening,” Laurel said. “It only seems like he’s not doing anything.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Dahlia shook her head. “I’m sure he knows exactly what he’s doing with the boys. It’s his daughters I’m referring to.”

“The twins?” Her friend shook her head, her confusion evident. “Grant seems like a very conscientious father.”

“He is. That isn’t what I meant, either. It’s just—” Dahlia sighed. Laurel was looking at her quizzically. “Don’t you think he seems rather standoffish with the girls?”

“I haven’t really seen him with them much but no, I’ve never thought that,” Laurel said. Her forehead pleated in a frown. “Why? Do you think there’s something wrong?”

“No, no.” Dahlia wished she’d never said a word. “I’ve just noticed he doesn’t show them much affection, though I suppose that could have something to do with his grieving process.”

“Maybe he’s not the affectionate type,” her friend suggested. “It’s obvious the twins love him dearly, so I doubt there’s anything to worry about.”

Dahlia didn’t want to belabor the point, though her reservations remained. “I have to get back to work, but thanks for sharing coffee with me. I don’t get out of the store in the afternoon very often.”

“You should,” Laurel encouraged. “You push yourself too hard.”

“If I don’t, who will?” Dahlia smiled, paid for their coffee, then hurried back to work. On the way she met Eddie Smart, one of the many miners who used Churchill as his home base.

“Hey, gorgeous. Are you free to have dinner with me tonight?” When she hesitated he added, “I’m going back up north to the mine in a couple of days.”

“Oh, Eddie, I’m sorry. I’m tied up.” Dahlia felt guilty for refusing again but she didn’t want to add to the romantic thoughts she knew he harbored toward her. “Can I take a rain check?”

“Sure,” he said good-naturedly. “I’ll be back in time for the fall supper. How about we sit together at that?”

“I’ll try,” she told him, unwilling to commit. Eddie was sweet. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings but she was not attracted to him.

As Dahlia walked toward her store, her thoughts returned as usual to her go-kart track. She decided to call Grant later to see if he could help her with it on Saturday. The weather was gorgeous but northern winters came hard and fast. She needed to get the project going.

As it turned out, Laurel took the twins leaf hunting for a school project early Saturday afternoon so Grant was free to accompany Dahlia on a survey of the road she wanted to use for the track.