The Sheriff's Mail-Order Bride (The Watson Brothers #2)(25)

“How the heck do you know what’s going on?” Rory stood up and looked down at her.

“Not blind, Rory.” She patted him on the hand. “Bring her to see me soon. Rather partial to that little one of hers, a right little cutie he is. He helped me feed the birds the day they arrived. Knew there was something going on in her head. Two of a kind you are, both needing something and not sure if you’ll ever find it. Perfect match if you ask me.”

“Don’t rightly know if I was asking, actually.”

“Still got that smart mouth of yours, Rory. It suits you somehow though.” She started to walk away.

“I’ll be sure to tell her you asked after her then.”

“And don’t forget to go see your daddy. Man’s still hurting.” She waved a hand in the air and tottered off, leaving him standing alone in the park.

“Hurting,” right. He crossed the road and started walking toward the old house he’d grown up in. He’d meant to come sooner but something always got in the way. The front fence badly needed of a coat of whitewash and the gate lay tilted, broken on one hinge. He wondered when the lawns were last mowed and the thought of offering crossed his mind. Rory stepped onto the cracked path and headed up to the front door. His mother’s old rocking chair still sat on the front porch. The cushions were now faded and threadbare, but it still held place of pride. Memories of her sitting there looking out over the front garden hit him in the gut and he hurried up the stairs to the open door. The button hadn’t worked for years so he raised his hand and knocked on the door frame, rattling the peeling timber.

“Come in.” The crackling voice wasn’t how he remembered his father sounding. Rory stepped into the hallway and the memories washed over him. Being twelve years old and watching his big brother slam out the front door with a satchel over his shoulder carrying everything he owned in the world, hurting him beyond measure. The growl of his father when the brothers made too much noise in the morning when he was suffering from a headache, as he did most mornings after a big night on the bottle. The dirty clothes piled up beside the washing machine and dishes nobody wanted to clean before they went to school in the morning.

“In here.”

Rory stepped into the kitchen and saw the bent old man leaning over the sink, his hands in hot soapy water as he did his dishes.

“What can I do for you?” His father turned and his eyes widened when he saw who was standing there. “Rory, is that you, son?”

His father wiped his hands on a tea towel, dropped it on the counter, and walked over. His eyes shone with wonder and he held out a hand to touch the face of the boy he hadn’t seen for almost ten years. Rory held back. He needed a good reason to forgive his father for the lost years before they were back to the loving relationship they had before it all went bad.

Over a cup of tea, he listened to apologies and regrets for the way his father had treated them. “I totally lost it, I’ll freely admit it. I loved your mother so much my world fell apart without her.”

“You had us, Dad. We lost her too.”

“I know that, but there was nothing I could do. There was no reasoning with me. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for ignoring you boys and thinking of myself first. It was wrong of me.”

“You know what I can’t forgive you for?”

The watery eyes glanced down at the table as if dreading what was coming.

“I can’t forgive you for making Chance leave. For not stopping him.” Rory cleared his throat, pushing down the emotion that rose and threatened to cut off his air supply. “And you never once told us it was him that kept us fed and clothed while you wallowed inside your bottle. How could you do that to him, to us?”

His father’s hand started to shake, spilling tea on the old, scarred Formica table. He put the cup down and gripped his hands together, steadying the shakes. “He made my life easier. Meant I could drink my troubles away and forget about everything for a while.”

“It wasn’t a while, Dad. It was years and years.”

The old man nodded his head. “You’re right. I didn’t give him any credit for what he did. He kept this family together while I distanced myself from everyone I loved, everyone I still love. He deserves a medal for that. He was more of a father to you boys than I ever was.”

“Yeah, he was.”

Rory sipped at the almost-cold tea, the taste bitter in his mouth. How long was he going to hate his father for what happened? It seemed a waste of time when life was so short. He knew that from losing Cindy. Hate and regret were emotions he didn’t need in his life. Perhaps it was time for forgiveness and mending bridges. Tyson, his younger brother, seemed to have moved on, so why not Rory? It was time for families to come together and build new relationships now he had Gina and Fisher in his life. It would be nice for them as well to have more. He wondered if Chance would think the same way eventually.

“Tell me what’s happening with you. Milly Forester said you’re the new deputy sheriff now.” The clearness of his father’s eyes told the story. He wasn’t drinking anymore and the house, although old and worn, was clean, unlike when he was growing up. Rory made the obvious decision to move on and forgive.

“Yes. After I lost my wife I didn’t know what to do, bit like you I guess. I wandered around aimlessly for years until Chance managed to get hold of me. He wanted me to come home and I was thinking about it myself to tell the truth. I even got so far as to put in for a transfer. Then I received a call from Tyson. Chance’d had a bad accident so I came back here early.”