Katie Rose McMann’s birthday was in two days. She would have been seven.
If she hadn’t died.
His crazy aunt Fanny had remembered Katie’s birthday, but had somehow forgotten that she’d passed away nine months before.
A burst of laughter exploded from Caleb’s lips, hysterical laughter that turned into a deep, wrenching sob.
He swallowed against it, fighting for control. He’d done so well. For the past nine months he’d managed to keep command over his emotions, but he felt his control slipping away as another sob choked in his throat.
He stood abruptly, the doll sliding from his lap, banging into the table and tipping over his beer bottle. He had to go…had to escape…had to get away from the dark despair that suddenly blinded him, threatened to paralyze him…threatened to consume him.
Katie. Her name reverberated in his brain, bringing with it a vision of her beloved face. That funny little grin, those bright blue eyes, the mop of golden curls and the chubby cheeks that made her appear half cherub, half pixie.
He stumbled to the French doors that led out onto a balcony. Air. He needed air. God…he couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe? What was wrong with him?
But he knew. Grief. He’d been running away from it for the last nine months, but now it had found him. It ripped at him, tore at his insides and he gripped his head with his hands as inchoate moans escaped him.
He stepped outside into the cool air. “Katie.” Her name began as a wail, then swelled inside him until he was screaming it over and over again, sobs shaking him as the night wind blew the sound of her name away.
He screamed her name until it was nothing more than a hoarse whisper of anguish. If only he hadn’t been in such a hurry that day. If only he’d made certain her seat belt was fastened. If only he’d been able to evade the truck that appeared out of nowhere and slammed into their car. But all the if-onlys in the world didn’t matter now. Katie was gone and nothing would ever bring her back again.
Carelessness had killed her. The carelessness of a tired truck driver, and Caleb’s own negligence had killed his baby girl.
He crumbled to the ground, his head bowed to his knees as tears blinded him. Never again would he hold her in his arms, smell the sweet scent of sunshine and bubble bath.
Never again would he see that special little smile, hear the childish giggles that had always made him grin despite his mood. And never again would he feel her warm little arms around his neck, hear her whisper in that beloved young voice, “I love you, Daddy Doodle.”
Grief could kill a man. Caleb knew he had to be dying. The pain in his heart was too great to bear, the emptiness in his soul too abysmal to survive.
It was said that people were never given more burdens than they could handle…but somewhere a mistake had been made. There had been too much loss in Caleb’s life. He’d grieved when his wife had died five years ago, but the grief had been necessarily short-lived. He’d had two-year-old Katie to raise, to nurture and love.
But this…this loss of his child was too much to bear. He wasn’t strong enough for this. How was he supposed to continue existing without the little girl who’d been his world, his life, his heart?
He had no idea how long he remained on the balcony. He cried until there were no more tears, cursed until there were no more words, and finally there was nothing left inside him except a chilling bleakness, an excruciating emptiness.
Wearily, not knowing how to go on, yet not knowing how not to, he pulled himself up and stumbled back into the apartment.
Depleted of energy, drained of emotion, he picked up the box containing the doll that had been the catalyst for his grief and placed the lid back on it. He uprighted the fallen beer bottle and sank onto the sofa.
His eyes felt gritty and his throat burned, but these were only mild discomforts compared to the pain in his heart. He could build enormous buildings, take raw wood and construct beautiful, lasting furniture, but he didn’t know how to piece his soul back together.
Dully, he stared at the television, where the late-night news was just winding down.
“And we end our newscast tonight with a happy story,” the perky blond announcer exclaimed. “Last week we brought you the story of sixteen-year-old Maria Lomax, who’d been blind since birth. Tonight, Maria can see, thanks to a miracle of modern medicine and through the generosity of a very special couple.”
The announcer’s picture disappeared and the screen filled with a picture of a hospital room where a lovely young girl was crying and hugging an older couple.
“John and Linda Corral lost their son a week ago to a motorcycle accident,” the female narrator continued. “But, in donating their son’s corneas, they gave the gift of sight to Maria, who can now see. Earlier this afternoon the couple met with Maria. John and Linda said the meeting provided the closure and healing they desperately needed, and they encourage everyone to consider organ donation.”
Closure and healing. Caleb’s mind worked to wrap around the concept behind those two words. It seemed impossible to comprehend while the agony of loss still encased him. Yet was it possible to find closure and healing? Was it possible to get past the pain that now debilitated him?
He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, drawing in deep, uneven gulps of air. There was no going back now. The floodgates of his grief had been opened by the arrival of the doll and he knew now that no matter how far he traveled, no matter how fast he ran, his grief would be inside him, consuming him.
He opened his eyes as a surge of energy ripped through him. For his own sanity and survival, it was time to look for his own healing, his own closure. And that’s exactly what he intended to do.
Chapter 1
She stood in her backyard, tossing a big, colorful ball up in the air, then catching it. Although she pretended to be interested solely in her game of catch, Caleb felt her gaze lingering on him with interest.
It had been the same for the past three days. Each afternoon, the little girl came out to play. The first day, she’d remained close to her house, eyeing him across the distance of her yard and his.
The second afternoon, she’d moved to the center of her yard, playing with the ball and watching Caleb as he worked to replace the rotten railings on the porch of his new home.
Today, she was playing near the fence that separated the two properties, and Caleb had a feeling this time she would talk to him.
The thought of connecting with her filled him with incredible anticipation and an equal amount of dread. Everything he’d done in the past month had been in the hope of making contact with Hannah Marie Clemmons.
When he’d arrived in St. Louis two weeks ago, he’d rented a motel room, only intending to drive by the house where she lived, hoping to see her alive and well, playing like any other normal, healthy five-year-old. He’d thought that would be enough.
It wasn’t.
It had been on one of his drive-bys that he’d noticed the big old two-story house next to the one where the little girl lived, was for sale. His reasons for buying it were twofold. First and foremost, it offered immediate proximity to Hannah. Secondly, his hands had itched to turn the handyman’s nightmare into something regal and wonderful again. In the past year, he’d gotten so caught up in the running of his business, he’d forgotten how much he loved to build…to do the physical labor of transformation.
He’d needed a vacation from the business, had needed to get back to what he loved. And this house, neglected and in total disrepair, offered such an opportunity. He figured he’d renovate the house, and sell it when he decided it was time to return to his life in Chicago.
“Hey, mister.”
Caleb looked up from the four-by-six