Isabella (The Mitchell/Healy Family #2)(48)
Author: Jennifer Foor

Sometimes it reminded me of my daughter and wife, but not the way that Isabella would assume. I couldn’t help miss them, and I knew they’d be on my mind every day for the rest of my life. Still, I’d been offered a second chance at a good life again, and this time I needed to make things right.

With her mother coming back into town for the sonogram in just a few short days, I decided that I needed to have all of my things moved over and put away. Isabella insisted on helping me get things organized. The baby was going to be here soon, and there was still a bunch to get done.

Even after making the commitment to be the child’s father, I was still nervous about it all. My love for Isabella had blinded a lot of my decision making, because I’d been so desperate to be with her. Now I was faced with what every new couple had to endure. I had to learn to live with someone again, after a long period of being alone. I think even when I tried to walk on eggshells, at times I was still annoying to her. To make matters worse, I felt as if the harder I tried the more I’d fail.

Isabella’s sonogram was scheduled for that following Monday. Her mother came back to Kentucky on Sunday afternoon, along with her father, which neither of us expected. Thankfully, by that time all of my stuff was neatly stored in her house. Because we’d been so busy with everything else, we hadn’t had time to reflect on our new relationship, which in turn left us with little to talk about when we were around her parents.

I think to lighten to mood, and get us both out of the house, that Sunday he took me out to get a bite to eat. Sitting there with the father of the woman that I was in love with reminded me of being young and going through the motions of asking for Simone’s hand in marriage. I was so nervous that day, and swore her father was going to tell me to take a hike. It got me wondering where he was now, and if they’d ever been able to forgive me for skipping out on all of them.

Isabella’s dad kept to small talk until we’d been sitting in the tavern for a while. He’d ordered a beer, and watched as I requested a tea instead. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to know why I didn’t drink. “What’s your story, Rusty? I suppose I should have asked this sooner, but we’re here now and it’s been bothering me. I need to know that something from your past isn’t going to ruin my daughter’s happiness. You see, she’s too trusting when it comes to men. Her last boyfriend was a piece of shit. You understand how I’d want her to be with someone that’s going to treat her right; someone who is who he says he is.”

I nodded, knowing that I had to tell him about my past. I was ready to take that leap with his daughter. “You’re right. You need to know the truth, and I’m willing to tell you, if you give me your word that you won’t tell Colt. My job is my business and I don’t want people giving me any kind of special treatment.”

“You do realize you shovel shit for a living?”

I nudged my head upwards. “I’m not a stable boy.”

He took another sip of beer and laughed to himself. “Sorry, I was getting you confused with one of my wife’s  p**n o novels. She’s always reading shit about Indians and cowboys.”

I smiled, feeling like he was trying to lighten the mood. “My story probably isn’t as interesting as you may think. I do have a past that I’m running from.”

“Do I need to call the family lawyer? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No,” I immediately reassured him. “I’m not a criminal.”

He placed his hands on the table and smiled, but it wasn’t because he was happy. It was more like he was holding in his anger, waiting for me to get to the point.

“I had a wife and daughter. Simone and Sydney. They were my life, my reason for living, until one day my daughter got sick. We took her to the hospital, but she didn’t make it past dinner.” I took a few deep breaths, noticing his facial expression had changed. I knew he was feeling my pain, and I appreciated that he was giving me time to control my emotions. “Bacterial meningitis is what they told us had killed her. They don’t know how she got it, and once she was gone it wouldn’t have helped us anyway.”

“I heard many marriages end when couple lose a child. Is that what happened?”

I sat there trying to come to grips with why Simone would take her life. We could have gotten through it together. We wouldn’t have been one of those failed marriages. “I wouldn’t know how things could have turned out. My wife took her own life shortly after my daughter’s death. In fact, they’re buried together it was so close. I reckon she couldn’t live another minute without our little girl.”

“I’m real sorry to hear about your family, Rusty. Man, that’s just terrible. I can’t imagine having to go through something like that.” His brow furrowed, and I did my best not to make eye contact. I was supposed to be someone who was strong; someone that could protect his daughter. Instead I was crumbling in front of her father, showing him how weak I really was.

“Our families did their best to console me, but I couldn’t handle it. I left my house, my job, and everyone I ever knew to be alone, because I couldn’t go another day with someone asking me if I was going to be okay.”

I looked down at the condensation forming on my glass of tea. I watched it drip down, leaving a trail as it moved. It reminded me of the tears that I’d shed for my girls, and how I’d never be able to fully get over them.

“I’m guessing my daughter knows all of this?”

I nodded. “She does.”

“Can I ask what you did for a living? You’re obviously good with horses. Did you live on a farm?”

“My dad was a veterinarian, as was I. We had a practice in our little town.”

He chuckled. “You’re telling me that you’re a god damn vet and you’d rather shovel shit?”

“Well, I don’t shovel shi-.”

“You know what I mean,” he corrected.

I shrugged. “I get to be around animals, and a family that reminds me how good life could be again. It’s not so bad. It also came with a house, so that was a plus.”

He seemed to study me for a couple moments. I had no idea what he could be thinking. He could be thinking I was damaged goods, and that I had no right to be with his daughter. He could be thinking of a way to send me packing. I just didn’t know.

“Do you love my daughter, Rusty?” His question was legitimate. Of course he’d want to know how I felt about his daughter. After all, she was the reason we were here.