Page 20 of Gideon’s Gratitude (Love in Mission City #5)

From chatting with a couple of the workers on the site, I’d gleaned she was single.

And perhaps looking. Yet, as stunning as she was, I didn’t feel the pull of attraction.

No, my dormant long-forgotten stirrings of sexual attraction were emerging for a certain sad, brown-eyed man across the way.

Like a volcano slowly awakening after a long, dormant rest.

Now? With him?

I mentally shook it off.

“The trailer was acceptable. And I could’ve gone back into town, I suppose. I just wanted to stay close. In case you needed me.”

I didn’t miss her arched eyebrow.

“Well, everything’s proceeding smoothly. The gas fitter is coming on Monday to install the fireplaces, and the connection will be up by the end of the week. The tiling in the bathrooms is on schedule, and the flooring is being worked on as well. Structurally, she’s in good shape.”

“The windows look good.”

“Yes, the house’ll be full of light. The blinds you chose will arrive in a couple of weeks. Geothermal heat is coming online shortly, air conditioning with the heat pump is the next to secure.”

“I wasn’t certain I needed a/c, but the past few summers assure me I do.”

“True that. And you’ve got good drainage around the property with no standing water, so flooding shouldn’t be an issue.”

“That’s a relief.”

Riley nodded to the house. “She’s going to stand you in good stead.”

I nodded in return. “Great. So now I have another question and perhaps a proposition.”

“Oh, I like propositions.”

Was she flirting? I was honestly too tired to tell. “Gideon pointed out the house isn’t designed for entertaining guests overnight.”

“There are several spare bedrooms.”

I snickered. “You haven’t seen the size of my family.”

“Fair enough. What are you thinking? An extension? Out the back?”

A shudder ran through me at the thought of marring my masterpiece. “No. Absolutely not.”

She smiled. “Well, that’s a relief. I mean, we could do it. But I’d be upset with losing the back facade of the house.”

“My thought precisely.” I pointed to the back part of the property, just before the forest line. “What if we built a small log cabin? A couple of bedrooms? ”

“You thinking one story or two?”

“I want to keep the footprint as small as possible, so I’m thinking two stories. Set back into the woods as far as is safe.”

“You worried about bears?”

“What?” No, I hadn’t been. But now I was.

A wide grin greeted me. “The realtor didn’t tell you about the bears?

We’ve had one come around to check us out.

They’re pretty common around here. Also spotted a small herd of deer.

You’ll have to watch what flowers and edibles you plant.

They love blueberries. Of course, if you want them to come around—”

I scowled. “I wasn’t aware of that either. Perhaps I should fence the property.”

“You could…”

“But?”

“It’s their land.”

“I…” Words failed me. This was my land. I bought it. I conquered it. Yet I also owed that debt to a force greater than myself. “Okay, so how do we make it so bears are less likely to visit? And do you think we can build a small log cabin?”

“You bet. Come with me.”

Wherever she led me, it’d be interesting. “You mind if Lucky comes?”

Riley went down on her haunches. “Lucky’s always welcome here.”

The dog licked her nose.

She giggled. “But preferable that he’s on a leash. Follow me.”

An hour later I headed back across the property line.

Lucky’d slept through the entire discussion.

Riley had excellent suggestions to discourage wildlife visits without actually putting up fencing. And she’d looped my architect in for the cabin. A guy named Septimus Knight. He’d come highly recommended by my realtor and, to my delight, had designed the perfect house.

Just not a house to entertain an extended family of about twenty people.

Knight planned to have designs for the cabin ready by the next week.

As I neared the house, the door flew open. “You’re here.”

I eyed a frantic-looking Gideon. “Where else would I be?”

“I woke up, and you were gone. It’s almost time for the video chat, and you were gone.”

“Gideon, take a breath. It’s barely two o’clock.” I handed the leash over, hoping the dog’s presence would calm him. The panic was disproportionate to the situation, but I couldn’t point that out. No, I had to respect my friend and what he was enduring.

Gideon unclipped the leash, and Lucky headed over to his water bowl.

I removed my coat after stepping inside and closing the door.

The room was darker than before as the skies overhead had grayed further.

As if reading my unspoken thought, Gideon flipped on an overhead light. The glare was bright, and he blinked.

The video camera sat on the table next to my laptop. I sat and worked diligently to set everything up. When I turned on the camera and checked the laptop, the overhead light cast an odd shadow. “Do you think we can turn off the light and turn on several lamps?”

He hustled to follow the instructions.

I rose and held out the chair.

He sat and adjusted himself as he stared at his image. “I look too pale. ”

He did, so I didn’t argue. “I don’t suppose you have concealer or foundation?”

The look of incredulity he gave me was priceless.

“Well, I have some for certain situations when I’m on camera.”

“I don’t. I never needed to. No one cares what I look like.”

“Now, I’m certain that’s not the case. Your children will care. They want you looking healthy. And you want to show Leo that you’re doing well. And how he made a mistake letting you go.” Even as I said the words, they resonated hollowly within me.

“He didn’t make the wrong decision.” Gideon rose abruptly. “You don’t know all the facts.”

And I didn’t like not knowing all the facts, but was it my place to ask? To insist? To demand? “Do you want to tell me?” Soft, coaxing.

“I’m an addict.” Blurted out.

He didn’t meet my gaze. Not what I expected. But nothing about this man ever did. “What are you addicted to?”

“Opioids. Pain killers.”

Common enough these days. “Did you move on to heroin or Fentanyl?”

His jaw dropped in horror. “No, absolutely not.”

“Is this why you don’t have painkillers in the house? I mean, not even acetaminophen?”

A vigorous nod.

“If you’re no longer on the drugs, how is this an issue?”

“Because I was on them, and Leo believed I didn’t need them. He came home one day and found me passed out. The kids were down for their naps, but Leo couldn’t rouse me. If the kids had needed me…”

A picture coalesced. “He was worried about the children.”

“And he has the right to be. I stopped. That day. I went to a rehab clinic. I detoxed, and I did the stint, and I haven’t touched a pill since. ”

“But you’re in constant pain.”

His wince was all the confirmation I needed. “And if you’re still in pain, there’s always a chance you can start using again.”

“But I won’t.”

“But Leo doesn’t see it that way.”

Another wince. “He won’t forgive me. He won’t give me another chance. He doesn’t…”

“Doesn’t…”

“Believe the pain is real. Believe the sensitivity is real. He honestly believes I’m faking everything.”

“To what end?”

He dropped into the chair. “I don’t know anymore. I just don’t know.”

“See, and here’s why I offered to help. Just because the divorce is final, doesn’t mean custody has to be set.”

“I told you. Everyone agreed the kids were better off without me around.”

Lord help me. “Are they truly? Yes, you endangered them once. And I’m not attempting to minimize that. But if you’re clean and sober, then you should be offered a chance at redemption.”

“What if I don’t? What if what I did was unforgivable?”

“Most offenders get a second chance. Even if Leo’s not willing to give you that chance, I’ll bet we can find a judge who is. Agree to supervised visitations at first. Prove you’re better.”

“But I’m not better. I can’t pick up my kids. I can’t get down on the floor and play with them. I can’t be the father they need.”

And here might just be the actual cause.

“I represented a mother in a wheelchair who fought for custody. You think she was any less capable? Her husband was a jackass who’d had multiple affairs while his wife got sicker.

He figured the courts would side with him that she couldn’t care for the children.

But she could. And she did. It’s all about adaptation and changing expectations.

You figure out what you can do, and you make it work. ”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not easy. It’s hard. It’s damn hard work. But it would also be worth it, yes?”

No missing the flare of hope in those light-brown eyes. “Do your visit today, see the counselor tonight, and we’ll see about the rest of it.”

He sat a little straighter, then winced. Then winced at the wince. “I need to stop doing that.”

“Stop feeling pain? I didn’t know that was possible.”

A roll of the eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean. Chronic pain is real. Millions of people have it. Billions of dollars have been made trying to treat it. You haven’t found what works for you. But you will. And I suspect you’ll feel better once your kids are back in your life.”

“If.”

“When.” Did I have the right to be so confident? No. Was I going to push anyway? Well, that was what I did.

“It’s time.” He positioned himself, and after a few clicks, the familiar screen popped up.

I moved away, but he leaned over and snagged my arm. “Next to me, please?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the screen, but the pleading was clear.

After grabbing another chair, I tucked myself next to the nervous man, ensuring I was out of sight.

A moment later, a gasp and a squeal. “Daddy.”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

The catch in his throat was unmissable .

“When are you coming home?” Her tone was plaintive.

“Not for a while. You remember what we said? I’m doing something really important.” Another catch.

I placed my hand on his thigh to stop the jiggling.

“I miss you, though.” He swallowed hard.

“I miss you too. I want you home.”