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Carrie lets out a humph. “No, Will. I’m not here for a reason. I happened to be driving by. When I saw you, I decided to stop in and say hi. Now I wish I hadn’t.” She spins on her heels and storms off.
“Yeah, right?” I say under my breath. “She was just driving by the last house on the street.”
Sadness crosses Ashton’s face. “She’s probably just lonely. I wish she didn’t feel such animosity towards us.”
We eat at the table on the veranda, and after dinner, we play card games with Sophie and Caroline.
Exhausted from moving, I turn in with the girls, but I can’t sleep from worrying about the pending custody case. Am I willing to risk losing my children because I refuse to seek therapy? Maurice’s words come back to me. Keeping all your worries bottled up inside ain’t good for your soul. Miss Tracy left a big hole in your life. If you don’t fill that hole with good stuff, the bad stuff will get inside you and eat you alive.
Maurice is only partially right. Tracy’s death left a void in my life. But I’ve had a hole in my soul for as long as I can remember. Since I was fifteen years old. I don’t need a shrink to tell me my anger issues stem from Bert’s accident. I’ve spent my lifetime trying to forget about the past. What good will come from dredging it all up?
I’m still awake when Sophie cries out in her sleep sometime around midnight. I hurry down the hall to her room at the back of the house.
“Daddy!” She extends her little arms to me. “I had a bad dream.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. But I’m here now.” I stretch out beside her on the bed. We snuggle until I’m certain she’s fallen back asleep. But when I try to slip out of the bed, she stirs again.
“Please don’t go, Daddy. I need you.”
I wrap my arms around her small frame. “I’m right here. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
I feel Sophie’s heart beating against my chest. She’s only two years old, an innocent child who needs nurturing and protection from the evil forces in the world. No one has ever needed me before. Tracy’s independent nature was one of the things I admired the most about her. Her strength and determination attracted me to her from the beginning. I can only imagine what she’d think about her parents having custody of our children. She wasn’t close to her parents, nor did she trust them. I’ll never know why she’d turned to them for support during the days prior to her death. Perhaps because they were her only family. Or maybe she was planning to divorce me, and she needed her powerful daddy to help her get custody of the girls.
I am a flawed man with skeletons in the closet, but I am this child’s biological father, and I will not give my children up without a fight. First thing in the morning, I’ll call Vanessa and hire her as my attorney. Even if it means I have to see a shrink.
THIRTEEN
JULIA
Living at the beach has advantages. During the day, a clear view of my surroundings allows me to be on the constant lookout for predators. But at night, I can’t see beyond the area around the cottage illuminated by outside sconce lights. Any person or thing could be lurking in that inky darkness.
I’m too on edge to sleep. I’m growing accustomed to the cottage’s noises—the ice maker clinking, the toilet running, and the palmetto fronds rustling in the wind outside. But the other sounds, footsteps on the porch and the rattling of the doorknob, are figments of my imagination. Built for summer habitation, the cottage’s exterior walls are paper thin. A strong man, a member of a cartel, could easily break them down.
All things considered, our first weekend in the cottage is pleasant. We cook hot dogs on the grill for every meal, not only because we’re on a budget but because Conrad loves them. And we spend our days on the beach. Pure joy fills my heart watching my son splash in the surf. He’s beginning to lose the weight he’d gained these past few months, and his skin has a healthy glow from the sun. The physical exertion wears him out, and he sleeps like a baby at night.
He’s excited to start school on Monday morning, and I’m eager to have three hours to myself for the first time in as long as I can remember. On the drive to town, I remind him how he should respond if anyone asks about his father.
“Daddy lives somewhere else now,” he says.
Conrad will eventually forget his father and everything that has happened these past few months. When he’s old enough to understand, I’ll tell him the truth.
“And where did we move here from?” I grill him.
“Colorado. I’ve got this, Mom,” he says, sounding like a teenager instead of a preschooler.
On my way home, I stop in at Coastal Hardware for some preliminary shopping, for when Rick Harvey grants me access to my trust in a few days. I scrutinize the many items on the home security aisle—door jammer bars, motion detectors, window and door alarms. Fry wasn’t joking when he said Coastal Hardware sells everything. Their assortment of guns is impressive.
I’m studying a glass case of handguns when a voice says, “Let me know if you would like to see any of our handguns.”
I look up to see an attractive young woman with long mahogany hair behind the counter. She is not the type I would expect from a gun salesperson. “Thanks. But I’m not ready to buy.”
She opens the case from her side. “Why not have a closer look for when you are ready?”
For the next few minutes, she shows me several small automatic pistols that would suit my needs.
“Have you ever shot a handgun?” she asks.
“Yes. Many times with—” I stop myself from telling her about my experiences shooting pistols with Grady on our farm. “But I’m rusty, and I would like to apply for my concealed carry permit.”
