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“Just give it some time.”
She’d given it two years. Her feelings hadn’t changed. Not in the slightest. “Knowing how badly it hurts to lose a child... It’s not something I’m going to risk again. Not just because I’m afraid I’d miscarry if I got pregnant again, although it’s pretty much assured that I would. But even without that, I can’t have children. Whether I lost a child through miscarriage or some other way, just knowing it could happen... I can’t take that chance. The last time, I hit a wall. I just don’t—I’ve made my peace with life and I’m happy.”
A lot of days she was getting there. Had moments when she was there. And felt fully confident she’d be completely there. Soon.
“But you aren’t dating.”
Leaning forward, she said, “I just got back to town a week ago! Give me time!”
He didn’t even blink. “What about Boston? Didn’t you meet anyone there?”
“I was hardly ever home long enough to meet anyone,” she reminded him. “Traveling all over the country, making a name for myself, took practically every second I had.”
The move to Boston had been prompted by an offer she’d had to join a nationally reputed efficiency company. She’d been given the opportunity to build a reputation for herself. To collect an impressive database of statistical proof from more than two dozen assignments that showed she could save a company far more money per year, in many departments, than they’d pay for her one-time services. Her father had seen the results. He’d been keeping his own running tally of her successes.
“You did an incredible job, Tam, I’m not disputing that. I’m impressed. And proud of you, too.”
The warmth in those blue eyes comforted her as much now as when she’d been a little kid and fallen off her bike the first time he’d taken off the training wheels. She hadn’t even skinned her knee, but she’d been scared and he’d scooped her up, made her look him in the eye and see that she was just fine.
“I guess it’s a little hard for me to believe that emotionally you’re really doing as well as you say, because I don’t see how you do it. I can’t imagine ever losing you... I don’t know how I’d have survived losing four.”
“But you did lose four, Daddy. You were as excited as anyone when you found out I was pregnant. Heck, you’d already bought Ryan his first fishing rod...”
She still had it, in the back of the shed on her small property. She’d carried Ryan the longest. Almost five months. They’d just found out he was a boy. Everything had looked good. And then...
Through sheer force of will, she stopped the shudder before it rippled through her. Remembering the sharp stabs of debilitating physical pain was nothing compared to the morose emptiness she’d been left with afterward.
“I’m not as strong as you are.” Howard Owens’s voice sounded...different. She hardly recognized it. Tamara stared at him, truly frightened. Was her father sick? Did her mother know? Was that why they’d needed her home?
Frustrated, she wanted to demand that he tell her what was going on, but knew better. The Owens and their damned independence. Asking for help was like an admission of defeat.
“Of course you are,” she told him, ready to hold him u
p, support him, for whatever length of time it took to get him healthy again. If, indeed, he was sick. She slowed herself down. She’d just been thinking how healthy, robust, strong he looked. His skin as tanned as always, that tiny hint of a belly at his waist... Everything was as it should be. He’d been talking about his golf scores at dinner the night before—until her mother had changed the subject in the charming manner she had that let him know he was going on and on.
Tamara had been warmed by the way her mother had smiled at her father as the words left her mouth—and the way, as usual, he’d smiled back at her.
She and Steve had never had that; they’d never been able to communicate as much or more with a look as they had with words. In the final couple of years, not even words had worked for them...
“Anyway,” she continued, pulling her mind out of the abyss, “you’re the one who taught me how to do it,” she said, mimicking him. “It’s all about focus, exactly like you taught me. If I wanted to get good grades, I had to focus and study. If I wanted to have a good life, I had to focus on what I wanted. If I wanted to overcome the fear, I had to keep my thoughts on things other than being afraid. And if I want to be a success, I just have to focus on doing the best job I can do. Focus, Dad. That’s what you’ve always taught me and what I’ve always done. In everything I do.”
It was almost like she was telling him how to make it through whatever was bothering him.
He’d always been her greatest example.
Howard’s eyes closed for longer than a blink. When he opened them again, he didn’t meet her gaze. And for the second time fear struck a cold blow inside her. Focus on the problem, she told herself. Not on how she was feeling.
To do that, she had to know the problem.
“What’s going on, Dad?” There was no doubt that his call to her asking her to come home had to do with more than missing her. How much more, she had to find out.
“Owens Investments was audited this past spring.”
Her relief was so heady she almost saw stars. It was business. Not health. “You’ve got some misplaced files?” she asked him. “You need me to do a paper trail to satisfy them?” Her Master’s in Business Administration had been a formal acknowledgment of her ability, but Tamara’s true skills, organization and thoroughness, were what had catapulted her to success in her field. If a paper trail existed, she’d find it. And then know how to better organize the process by which documents were collated so nothing got lost again.
Her father’s chin jutted out as he shook his head. “I wish it was missing files. Turns out that someone’s been siphoning money from the company for over a year. And I’m not sure it’s stopped. If it continues, I could lose everything.”
Okay. So, not good news. Also not imminent death. Anything that wasn’t death was fixable.
