Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Dadda, dadda, dadda,” Raine sings out, as she happily shakes her little tush and mixes the contents of her bowl.
“I’ll, uh, tell Mom breakfast is ready,” I murmur, before turning from the doorway and bolting across the living room on rubbery legs.
When I get to Mom, I tell her everything that just transpired in the kitchen.
“You don’t seem happy about this,” Mom observes.
“I’m wary. What if Caleb doesn’t make it to the custody hearing, and then Raine feels like she’s lost her daddy on top of losing her mommy?”
Mom smiles. “I think this is a chicken-egg kind of situation. Would I have done it this way? No. But I have to think Raine learning to accept Caleb as her daddy will only strengthen the bond and motivate Caleb to keep going, even more.”
“So, you think it’ll be a good thing, in the end?” I squeak out.
“I do. I think it’ll be a great thing. The best thing.” She chuckles. “Your father isn’t right about everything, God knows. But about this one thing? I think he was exactly right.”
Chapter 17
Caleb
We’re back at my cabin now. Or, rather, my lake house, as Aubrey keeps calling it. I concede that’s a more accurate description nowadays, given Grandpa’s upgrades.
The lumber for the new deck was delivered about an hour ago, while I was on today’s Zoom call with my rehab counselor. And now, Joe and I are getting everything measured and set up for my big project, while Aubrey and her mother throw a beach ball around with Raine at the shoreline.
“I was thinking the fire feature would go there,” I say to Joe, gesturing to the spot. “Do you think I should tap into the gas line or go with a propane tank?”
As Joe explains the pros and cons of each respective approach, my gaze drifts to movement on the quiet lake. There’s a guy sitting in a rowboat about a hundred yards out, and something about him doesn’t feel quite right to me. Is it my imagination, or is that guy staring at the women and Raine on the lawn?
The hairs on the back of my neck go up and my protective instincts flare. Could that be Ralph Beaumont? I haven’t seen a photo of the guy, so who knows; but I’m not willing to take any chances.
“I’ll be right back,” I mutter to Joe, before beelining toward the water’s edge. When I start walking, however, the guy in the small boat grabs his oars and starts paddling away, which only makes me even more suspicious. Paula said the custody lawsuit was filed yesterday, but she hasn’t confirmed whether Ralph’s been served. Did someone from the courthouse give him a heads up? Maybe someone in law enforcement, since Ralph’s a retired police officer?
My heart thrumming, I pull out my phone and tap out a quick text to Paula, asking if Ralph got served already, and also asking her to send a photo of him. As I press send on my text, Aubrey comes to a stop next to me.
“I saw a guy watching the house from a rowboat yesterday, too,” Aubrey says.
“Same guy?”
“Not sure. Yesterday’s guy was wearing a hat and mostly looking away. He was far out, too, like this guy, and the lighting wasn’t good.”
“What about the rowboat? Same one?”
“I don’t remember details about the boat from yesterday. I was more fixated on the guy who was inside it, giving me chills up my spine.”
“You think this guy or yesterday’s could be Ralph Beaumont?”
Aubrey shrugs. “The guy yesterday looked like every other old white guy, same as this guy. Same as Ralph. For all we know, that’s just a well-known fishing spot on the lake, and we’re being totally paranoid.”
I consider that. “Maybe. Either way, though, let’s bring Raine inside for a bit. I’m not taking any chances.”
“Goodnight, love,” Barbara says to Aubrey, giving her daughter a tight squeeze.
All four of us adults—Joe, Barbara, Aubrey, and I—spent the whole day with Raine at my house, and it went better than my wildest dreams. Raine hasn’t called me “Dadda” again, not since this morning in the Capshaws’ kitchen; but at least now I’ve got a mini-goal to work toward, as I continue working toward the larger one of getting Raine to trust me, completely.
After Aubrey completes her goodbyes to her parents, she turns to Raine, who willingly let me pick her up a moment ago. “Say goodnight to Grammy and Pop-Pop,” Aubrey says. “They’re going back home to sleep, while we stay here with Caleb—your daddy.”
“I go home sleep?” Raine asks.
“No, we’re both staying here with Coobie. Your daddy. But in the morning—”
“I go home,” Raine says. This time, it’s not a question. It’s a command. She wriggles in my arms, so I set her down onto her pajama-clad feet, and the second she’s free, she toddles to Barbara’s legs and holds tight.