The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(66)

“You had to grow up too fast because of me,” his mother frequently said.

“It’s not your fault, Mom,” he whispered.

When he was sure she was sleeping soundly, he quietly left the room. He was walking down the hall when he ran into Dr. Grant.

“Just the man I wanted to see,” Scott Grant said. “I was going to catch up with you tomorrow in Thunder Point, but this is good. You came over to visit your mom?”

Justin nodded. Silent. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment.

Scott Grant put a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ll walk out with you. I can keep your mom for a few days, maybe a week. Here’s what we’re going to have to do—her name is on a list for extended nursing care. They expect a bed in a week at the earliest, a month at the longest. If your mom goes home again, Justin, it’s going to be the last time. She needs full-time nursing care and therapy. She’ll have more time if she gets what she needs.”

“We can give her anything she needs,” he said.

“You’re damn good at taking care of her, son. I’m impressed by the quality of care she gets at home but we both knew it had limits. Not only does your mom deserve a better quality of life, but so do you and your brothers.”

“That’s the thing, Doc. If she goes into the nursing home, are they going to let me take on the house and the boys? No, they’re not, that’s what. They’re going to go to foster homes, maybe different ones. They might even make me go for a few months and then what happens to the house? I can tell you right now, that’s not happening. I can take care of myself.”

“Justin, don’t concentrate on worst-case scenarios—we might find a foster family right in Thunder Point. Aside from the boys sleeping in another family’s house, there won’t be that much different about your lives. Except they won’t have to work so hard to keep things together at home. Now, let’s talk about your dad....”

“He’s gone, Doc. He left about six years ago. They’ve been divorced for five years. He sent money for a couple of years but we haven’t seen a check in a long time. I don’t know where he is....”

“Where was he last?” Scott asked.

“I think, Portland. And we’re not going to Portland!”

“It might keep the three of you together.”

“Wherever the boys end up, I’ll go there and get work. But not with him. You think he’s a solution? The guy who took off and left three little kids alone with a sick mother?”

“I’d be the last guy to nominate him for father of the year,” Scott said. “I’m going to get to work on this right away, son. I’ve been asking questions and making phone calls, but now it’s time to take some action. We’re going to find a solution to this that works for you and your brothers. Try not to worry too much.”

Justin gave a huff of laughter. “Right. Well, worry seems to be what I do best.”

Fifteen

Laine couldn’t believe how satisfying and tranquil her life had become.

The few cases she managed were simple and left plenty of time for her to work out at the dojo, to enjoy her deck in the warming spring weather, make good use of her kitchen and best of all, have quality time with Eric. And then the one thing that could completely derail her happened. The doorbell rang in late afternoon. She opened it to stare into the eyes of her father.

“Oh, God,” she said. She was momentarily paralyzed.

“Are we just going to stand here and stare at each other?” Senior said.

She stepped back so he could enter. “How did you find me?”

“The way any intelligent person would. I hired someone to find you. I knew approximately where you were even though you’ve done your best to remove me from your life.”

“Couldn’t the person you hired have found you a phone number?”

“Why bother with that? You wouldn’t talk to me. Let’s not make this harder than it already is—I’m here to make amends. I need my children back in my life. You’re all I have.”

“You have Pax, the one you find acceptable.”

He frowned, his dark brows lowering. “Pax has his own family and his fellowship, I have very little of him. Except that he’s checking on me all the time now. But he doesn’t ask me what’s going on with me—he asks the help. But Pax will at least talk to me.”

They stood in the foyer. He glanced around, lifting a dark eyebrow as he peered into the study, where her desk and computer sat. He was such a big man, so full of bluster and stubbornness, she crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “There were terms,” she reminded him. “I told you I didn’t want to hear from you until we made some changes in our relationship.”

“Can we sit down?” he asked. “We need to get this put to bed.”

She shook her head. “I was clear. You were clearly stubborn.”

“What do you want from me, Laine? Want me to say I’m sorry?” he asked. His voice boomed as usual. His physique matched his voice—he was robust, fit, tanned as though he’d been on vacation. He’d been bald forever, as long as she could remember, with a dark ring of hair around his dome. He was a handsome man. Her mother used to say he looked just like Trapper John, M.D., possibly accounting for the many reruns of that series they watched when Laine was a little girl. For a seventy-year-old man his belly was surprisingly flat, his arms well-muscled, legs straight. He didn’t look his age. “Now can we sit and talk?”