“Can we have tacos?”
He groaned inside. His stomach couldn’t take much fast food anymore. But Sasha loved the drive-through, and he could get himself a salad.
“Why don’t we go now and pick them up? It’s a little early, but that’ll give us room for popcorn and ice cream later on.”
“All right!” Sasha nodded her approval, the missed sleepover apparently forgotten.
THEY ATE FROM the wrappers at the kitchen table, both devouring the early meal. Dutch looked up at the clock.
“I have to go check on some patients, but I’ll only be gone a half an hour or so. Think you can keep yourself out of trouble for that long?”
He’d been trusting her alone a little at a time, since she was approaching her twelfth birthday. Ginny had gone to her usual weekend prelaw study night in Baltimore, and he still had to visit the llamas.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to take a quick look at the llamas.”
As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he’d made a mistake. Sasha homed in for the kill.
“Daddy, you promised I could go the next time you visit a llama farm. And it’s only fair ’cause you didn’t let me go to the sleepover.”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t want Sasha anywhere near Claire.
Too dangerous. Too many questions.
The answers are what you’re afraid of.
“I don’t think so, Sasha, not tonight.”
He heard the unreasonable tone in his voice, but it was too late to soften his delivery. Sasha’s face fell, then reddened with emotion.
“Stop treating me like a baby, Dad! I won’t get in the way or cause you any problems.”
“I know that, sweetheart.” He expelled a breath, giving in. “Okay, you can come along. But it’s going to be a quick visit, so don’t think you’re staying with the llamas all night.”
“I won’t.” She pulled on her hat and gloves as she spoke and he felt the dread gather inside him.
Anything would be better than going back to Claire’s—especially with Sasha.
CHAPTER FOUR
CLAIRE HEARD the truck pull in, the crunch of gravel and the slam of doors.
Doors?
She looked out the window and saw the person who’d accompanied Dutch. A small, thin figure walked beside him, shadowing his moves.
His and Natalie’s daughter.
Claire let the curtain fall. She’d planned on staying in, poking her head out when Dutch came back from the barn, keeping their conversation to a minimum.
But he’d brought his daughter.
Their daughter.
Natalie hadn’t gotten pregnant after she and Dutch made love that fateful night in high school, while Claire was away. They’d had a scare when her period was late. And the fallout from that scare put the lid on the coffin that held Dutch and Claire’s dying relationship.
What hurt the most was that Dutch and Natalie had stayed together after the scare and Dutch’s one-night indiscretion. Dutch and Natalie had gone to college together, married and had a child. Dutch’s night with Natalie hadn’t been just a one-night stand, although that was what they’d both told her in those dark days of senior year.
It was a long time ago, she reminded herself.
Claire wondered if she’d made a mistake in assuming she’d never get over the emotional trauma Dutch and Natalie’s relationship had inflicted on her. Maybe if she’d come clean with Natalie all those years ago and told her they couldn’t be friends anymore…
But back when they were in grade school, Claire and Natalie had promised each other they’d always be friends. In high school they’d watched other girls fight and lose lifelong friendships over boys and swore that would never happen to them.
But it had. And instead of leveling with Natalie, Claire had told her she was over Dutch and happy for Natalie, and the two of them would remain friends.
It had worked for a while. Claire came back from college for weekends and spent time with Natalie. It was better when Dutch wasn’t around, which had been often. When he was, Claire never spoke to him if she could avoid it. More importantly, she never allowed herself to be alone with him.
Except the night of Natalie’s bachelorette party.
Claire groaned at the humiliating memory.
After that, Claire had kept up her charade of friendship-as-usual as long as she could. But when the baby came, and Dutch and Natalie were a no-kidding family, Claire found she didn’t have the energy to put on her show of indifference anymore. She’d loved Natalie, but had to save the few scraps of self-respect she had left. She’d seen Sasha once, as an infant at Natalie’s belated baby shower; she’d never spent time with her again.
If she was smart she’d continue that approach and stay in the house.
Her thoughts warred with her curiosity. Curiosity won. What kind of girl had Dutch and Natalie’s baby become?
Claire threw on her merino cardigan, shoved the wool cap she’d just finished knitting onto her head and went out the back door. The afternoon air hung heavy with the threat of rain. As she entered the barn, she saw the gray clouds through the open stalls. They served as a perfect backdrop for the young girl in her periwinkle jacket.
If Claire expected an immediate earth-shattering recognition of Dutch and Natalie’s daughter, it didn’t happen.
Sasha stood quietly off to the side, smiling at the smallest cria. Dutch examined Stormy with the same focus she’d seen this morning. He was a gifted vet; she had to give him that. He knew his job and he didn’t permit any distractions.
Claire walked toward them, her footsteps virtually silent on the hay-strewn ground. She wore her favorite barn shoes—slip-on suede mules with supportive rubber soles. Hand-knit socks from the local yarn store kept her feet warm. She looked forward to the day when she’d be able to knit her own socks.
“Hello,” Claire greeted the girl.
Dutch didn’t respond as he tended to Stormy. But his daughter met Claire’s gaze with uncompromising candor. Just like Natalie would have done.
“Hi. I’m Sasha, Dr. Archer’s daughter.”
“I’m Claire.”
Sasha stared at her and Claire thought she saw a question in Sasha’s huge brown eyes. But none came.
“You look like your mom.”
“You knew my mom?” Claire cringed at the hopeful expression on Sasha’s face. Great. She should’ve kept her mouth shut.
“That was years ago, Sasha, before you were born.” Dutch’s voice cut across the stable, but it didn’t appear to affect Sasha as it did Claire. Claire wanted to climb over the slats and run for the hills.
“Huh. So you went to school with her? Have you always lived in Dovetail?”
“No, yes… I mean, yes, I lived here as a child, then left for school.” Complete with a broken heart.
“I know who you are!” Sasha stepped closer. “You’re the TV reporter who came back because you had nowhere else to go.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Claire slipped her hands in her pockets. Why