“You tell me.”
“I’m a successful businesswoman,” she reminded.
He didn’t say anything.
“I’m an upstanding member of my community.”
He sat in the passenger seat, staring at her.
“I graduated from high school with the highest GPA and had a full scholarship,” she reminded. “All these things aren’t things someone who isn’t okay does.”
“Good. We’ve established that you’re fine. That means there’s no reason for us not to go in and talk to Mr. Simmons. Come on.” And with that, he got out of the car and headed toward the homeless shelter’s entrance, pausing to talk to the people outdoors, but not once did he look back to see if she was following him.
Blasted man. It would serve him right if she restarted the engine and left him to walk back to Pine Hill.
*
Glancing toward thepale woman walking next to him, Zach fought the urge to take her into his arms. An urge he’d been fighting for the past half hour while they talked with the shelter’s director, Bob Simmons. Had he been wrong to push her into going into the shelter? He hadn’t thought so but seeing her so shaken had him second-guessing his belief that she was too logical to have come all this way without at least talking to the man who claimed to have known her father. Not going in would have nagged at her, possibly for forever.
Yet, who was he to have pressed when she’d wanted to leave? Wasn’t that what he’d done himself rather than face his own family issues?
“You okay? What am I asking? I know you’re not okay. You just found out that your dad lived in a homeless shelter less than two hours from Pine Hill on and off for several years.”
“At least now we know Dad really was here.”
“Yep. Bob confirmed that by how much he knew about your family and Pine Hill. It makes more sense that Bob remembered him now that we know Cliff volunteered at the shelter as well as living there. It sounded as if Bob thought a lot of him.”
Isabelle nodded. “Why do you think Dad told him so much about us?”
“It’s normal for a father to talk about his kids.” No doubt his own father bragged about the brilliant son who’d stepped into the family business and was achip off the old block. When it benefitted the business, he’d guess his old man brought up having a son in the military as well.
“Even fathers who left them?” Isabelle’s voice held such a desperate plea for reassurance that her father had loved his daughters that Zach ached.
“Sounded to me as if the man Bob remembered missed his daughters a lot.” It wasn’t a lie, but Zach would have said most anything to erase the pain shining in her blue gaze.
“Then why did he leave us? Why?” Isabelle demanded, giving voice to her hurt.
“I can’t answer that.” But he had a pretty good idea. Didn’t he stay away from his own family for their own good, too? Their lives were better with him not there. “From what Bob told us, your father suffered from bouts of severe depression.”
“So, he wanted the rest of us to be depressed, too?” With that, his strong, brave Isabelle began to cry and Zach’s inability to do anything other than take her into his arms crumbled right along with her.
Stroking her hair, he held her close, letting his body absorb her sobs. Feeling helpless, he wanted to wave a wand and make her world right. He shouldn’t have brought her today. Or, more accurately, had her bring him since he still wasn’t cleared to drive. Soon, though.
Frustrations he’d been fighting from the moment he’d stepped inside the shelter hit and he held onto Isabelle a little tighter. She’d been looking around the facility and trying to imagine her father there. He’d looked around at the frail, unkempt men and women, and he’d seen people who’d once been proud, productive members of society. Some military, some mental, some just down on their luck.
He’d seen himself.
The dreaded throb in his temple started and his left eye twitched. A sharp stab shot through the side of his head and sweat popped out on his skin. No. Not here. Not now. Not when Isabelle needed him to be strong. He did not need one of his headaches to hit. Or worse. If he blacked out, she’d tell Sarah, and then Bodie would tell Lukas. He might never get back to driving.
He must have tensed because she pulled back and swiped at her face. “I’m so embarrassed. If you tell anyone I did this, I’ll never forgive you.”
“No one knows we’re here, Isabelle,” he reminded, his vision fuzzy as he focused on her face, hanging on to her image to keep himself conscious and slowly feeling the fuzziness brighten.
“Yeah, they all think we’re on some romantic Christmas shopping outing.” She dug in her purse, found a tissue, and blew her nose. “That’s me. Miss Romantic.”
He rubbed his clammy palms over his jeans. “Someone should give you a crown and sash.”
She snorted. “I’m not the beauty queen in my family.”
