“I don’t know. Those are some things that bother me. The rules are clear, as far as they go, but they don’t mention ties or how the final winner is chosen. Or if we can share the prize.”
Twyla set their drinks on the table and pulled a sheet from her pocket. “Here’s tonight’s newsletter.” She slid the paper between them.
Joy picked it up. “Oh gosh,” she said after she scanned it. “Team Rancy is out. They were caught cheating and were removed from the train. I feel terrible for them.”
“Me too. But it’s good news for us,” his tone was wry.
She jerked her head up to look at him. He shrugged.
“Hey, it’s true. I don’t really feel bad for them. They knew the rules. I can’t imagine why they would cheat. If it were me, I think a failure would be better than the risk of being kicked off the train.” He sipped his coffee.
“I agree. If we had failed, we could still stay on the train and enjoy a free trip. I’d much prefer that than to try to win the wrong way.”
Seth agreed. They discussed the contest and other passengers for a bit.
She was starting on her second drink when Seth cleared his throat. “I asked you here for a reason.”
“I assumed that.” She tried not to think back on how many times he’d pushed her limits. She was enjoying the evening and didn’t want to ruin it with a fight.
“I wanted to apologize, again, for interfering in how you parent Chantal. I’ve encouraged her to do things you didn’t approve of. I let her take part in the play. She lied. It wasn’t her idea, it was mine. I can’t let her take the blame. Please don’t punish her for my misdeeds. She lied to protect me.”
Joy huffed. Another tough parenting call. Did she reprimand her daughter for lying or praise her for standing up for another person? Her shoulders sagged. Probably both, but that was a problem for another day.
“My sister has different rules than you. I don’t spend much time with my nieces and nephew. They don’t live close.” He grimaced. “And I find it hard to be around them. Gwyn’s passing stole my confidence and comfort around children. And kids remind me of how much I and my family lost.”
“Maybe initially,” Joy said.How could he not know how good he was with kids? He was amazing with Chantal, and he’d done a fabulous job with the kids at the concert. “You managed perfectly with the choir and got the older kids to take part willingly. I think you have more skills than you know.” He was so kind and gentle with the children. He’d be a good father…if he decided to become one. She might be too old to carry another child, but that didn’t mean he was too old to start a family, even if he seemed to be her age.
Her mind threw out an image of Seth, Chantal, and herself cuddled around a Christmas tree, opening gifts and laughing like a family. She’d be proud to marry a man like Seth. It was so weird that she was even having such a thought after only knowing him for a few days. Maybe they could spend more time together as the trip progressed. It would be less stressful now that their task was complete.
He really was a great guy, with genuine concern for family and strangers. He had a good job, was community-minded, he was kind and understanding. Okay, she admitted it. He was probably husband material. That he liked Chantal, and she liked him, was a bonus. She was about to suggest spending the day together at their next stop when he spoke.
“Chantal did great today.” He sounded proud.
“Yes, she did. She faced a lot of new things, but I wish she hadn’t gone on stage. And that fall scared the life out of me.” She trembled, thinking of her absolute terror and panic when Chantal slipped by the bonfire.
“She wasn’t hurt, and she wasn’t close enough to be in danger,” Seth placated.
“That’s not the point,” she snapped, slamming her mug down on the table. Coffee and whipped topping splashed over the rim and ran down her hand.Didn’t he care about the risks she’d taken?
“Okay. What is the point? Help me understand.” His calm tone sent her anger skyrocketing.
“The point is that she’s my daughter, not yours. You don’t get to put her in danger.” She clenched her teeth until her jaw ached. It was a wonder she didn’t crack her teeth.
“First, she was in no danger on stage. She walked and talked. Things she does every day. Second, we did what you wanted at the mall. I kept her safe by carrying her down the escalator. You agreed to the winter fair and the bonfire. Those are on you, not me. I was there, yes. But you agreed. I helped her when she needed help and, aside from slipping, she wasn’t in any danger at any point. Maybe you’re being over-protective.”
“Over-protective?” she screeched. She ignored the curious stares her elevated voice brought their way. “She’s my child. The only one I’ll ever have. I can’t afford insurance. Do you know what it would cost me if she were seriously hurt?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “She’s fragile and needs protection from a harsh world.”How could he not understand this?He’d lost someone dear to him, so he, of all people, should get where she was coming from.
“She’s not fragile,” Seth disagreed calmly. “She’s fully capable of doing almost anything. Don’t you think she’s ready to try new things? Sure, she’ll need to be extra cautious under certain circumstances, but she’s a normal child except for her crutches.”
“You know nothing about it.” She trembled in anger. “Mind your own business.” She jerked up from the table and glared down at him. Her height over him gave her the strength for one last shot. “I was going to ask you on a date tomorrow to get to know you better, but that train’s left the track. I know all I need to know. Don’t talk to me or my daughter again.” Head held high; she strode from the car.
Out of sight of Seth and the curious bystanders, she stumbled down the hall and locked herself in a public bathroom. How could she have been so wrong about him?
“Damn you, Seth Mathison.”
She sobbed until she had no tears, rinsed her face, and stared into the mirror.
If he was so awful, why did she feel like she’d just lost half her heart?
