“Fortunately it’s not a big park. It doesn’t take long to see everything.”
“Have you been through the entire thing? What are the highlights?”
“Audrey really liked the holiday castle toward the exit. She said that has always been her favorite.”
“We’ll check it out. Thanks.”
“You come too, Ry.” Lydia held her hand out to him. He looked a little disconcerted but after a brief hesitation he reached for her mittened fingers.
This felt entirely too domestic, Holly thought, with her holding one of Lydia’s hands and him holding the other. She thought about dropping her daughter’s fingers but didn’t know how to do it without calling more attention to the situation.
“How’s your stepmother tonight?” she asked instead.
“She seems to be okay. Like Dad said earlier today, she’s using her crutches now. She can even go up and down steps with them.”
“And your dad?”
His mouth tightened. “Fine.”
Again, she knew whatever was between him and Doug wasn’t any of her business but she sensed it was a painful topic. Something about the intimacy of the night, this magical, colorful fairyland beside the lake, made her want to help.
“Why are you so angry with him, Ryan? What did he do?”
His jaw hardened again. For a moment, she was certain he wouldn’t answer her but after a long pause, he sighed. “It’s not really what he did. It’s what he didn’t do.”
Chapter Eleven
WHAT WAS IT ABOUT THIS WOMAN THAT MADE HIM WANT TOconfide all his painful secrets to her?
Lydia bounced along between them, eyes glowing as she looked around, clearly not paying any attention to their conversation. He looked between her and her lovely mother, whose quiet calm called to him like a safe port in a blizzard.
As they neared the holiday castle at the end of the park, Lydia stopped in her tracks, her mouth forming a perfect O.
“A princess castle!” she exclaimed, pressing her hands to her cheeks in awe. The LED castle shimmered in white and gold, its turrets reaching high into the dark sky, while the “moat” of animated lights rippled and glowed beneath it. Other children were running around inside the illuminated structure and Lydia looked at her mother, as if afraid to hope.
“Can I go in there?”
“You can. We’ll watch from out here,” she answered, much to his relief since the interior couldn’t have been taller than five feet.
Lydia raced in to join the other children. They found a bench that had a clear view of Lydia. Only then did he finally return to her question of earlier.
“My mom died when I was thirteen. Kim was two years older.”
“Yes, she told me. That’s a tough age to lose your mother.”
“Any age is tough. But yeah. It was hard. She had been sick for about six months before she died. An inoperable brain tumor. She fought hard for six long, difficult months.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. It was horrible. Mom tried so hard to put on a cheerfulface for us but the chemo and radiation beat her up hard.” He paused. “I should say, it was horrible for Mom, Kim and me. Dad took it all in stride.”
“Or at least that’s what you saw,” she said gently.
He frowned. “Maybe. But did my dad take emergency leave to care for her—or for us—even in her last weeks of life, when we knew the end was near? Of course not. Why would he let the inconvenience of a dying wife and two frightened, grief-stricken children interfere with his brilliant military career.”
The sympathy in her expression seemed to seep through him.
“That must have been tough. But, again, that might have been what you saw from your perspective. I’m sure your father grieved in his own way.”
