Page 5
“Sean, it’s Marsh. Can you come to my office?”
“Something happen?” he asked.
“Yes…maybe. I just need to see you.”
He didn’t waste time talking. Glancing at his watch, he calculated the trip to the attorney’s office and then across town for his other job. As long as he didn’t grab the nap he’d been hoping for or stop for a meal, he could work that in.
“I can be there in half an hour.”
“See you then.”
Needing to hurry, he grabbed the last box and headed out the door. Worrying about what Marsh had to tell him would do no good. Worry was an emotion for people with choices, for people who didn’t know what decision to make. That was one problem he didn’t have. Fighting for his daughter was his only choice.
As he drove through the busy streets, he battled the exhaustion that was always with him these days. Sleep was an elusive and rare commodity. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Emma’s terrified face, the fear in her eyes, the tears rolling down her little cheeks. It broke his heart to think about what she was going through, how traumatized she must be to think that her daddy had abandoned her.
Even though he had not been allowed to visit her, he had seen her twice since they’d taken her away. Both times, he’d been too far away to get a good look to see if she was healthy or suffering. He’d felt like a sick stalker, but he’d had no choice.
Sean pulled into the parking lot of the law office. He was five minutes early, and he wanted to give himself time to regroup. Fighting was becoming more difficult because, despite Marsh’s assertions at the beginning, over time he had seen doubt grow in the attorney’s expression. Sean knew he was becoming the only person to believe he could win. Even Brenda, when he’d talked to her a few nights ago, had suggested that perhaps he should consider giving up.
The idea that he would do such a thing was ludicrous. But lately, an insidious voice inside him had been whispering the same thing. As much as he loved her…as much as he felt like she was his flesh and blood, Emma wasn’t his daughter. He had no legal hold on her. He still felt like her father, though. His heart told him to fight, but his head told him that it was a losing battle.
He’d had the privilege of being that precious angel’s father for just a little over two years. It had been the greatest blessing and privilege of his life, and he wouldn’t trade a moment of that for anything. But maybe that was all he’d been meant to have. Maybe he—
No! Sean slammed his fist on the steering wheel. That was what they wanted him to do, to give up and just let her go. But how could he do that? She was his little girl.
With that thought, he jumped out of the car and stalked to Marsh Bixby’s office. He’d completely shoved aside the questions of why the man wanted Sean to come in. Maybe there was new information, a precedent that he’d discovered. Perhaps there was new hope.
The instant he entered the office and saw Bixby’s face, he knew the news was not good.
“What’s happened?”
“Have a seat.”
Sean shook his head. “Just get it said, Bixby,” he said grimly.
“Bridget and Joe have left the country. They took Emma with them.”
“Left the country?” he whispered hoarsely. His heart fell to the floor, and he straightened his spine to keep himself from following it down. Clearing his throat, he said, “Where did they go?”
“Their attorney refuses to say.”
“But I—”
“I’m sorry, Sean, but this morning, the judge turned down our last appeal. There’s no avenue left. Emma is not your child and will never be yours again. You need to let her go.”
Chapter Three
Present Day
Montana
The slam of an ax splitting a log in two echoed through the canyon. Allowing the wood to fall to the ground, Sean grabbed another one, heaved the ax over his shoulder, and slammed into the wood with skilled precision. Log-splitting was one of the few things he remembered his dad teaching him. They’d gone camping a few times when he was barely a teenager. Since neither one of them was a big talker, he remembered a lot of silence, with the exception of his dad showing him how to split logs and start a fire. Both of those lessons had come in handy through the years.
He rarely thought about his dad anymore. He’d never known his birth mom, as she’d taken off when he was still a toddler. Even Brenda, his stepmother, had barely mentioned his dad the last few times they’d talked. Maybe that was wrong, but it was the way of his family. Always had been. And without exception, neither of them ever talked about Emma. Just the thought of her could cause a massive reaction in him that could take weeks to overcome. Coping by not feeling was his go-to emotion.
Another log, another massive echo through the canyon. He thought of nothing but the act itself. Staying focused on the task in front of him and not the hell scrambling around in his brain was the only way to get through a day.
He’d learned that from his dad, too, and had perfected the act when he’d lost his daughter. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Just do. You gotta job… It’s there in front of you. Like Nike says, Just. Do. It.
