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He smiled back. “It draws women,” he agreed. He sighed, sipping coffee. “I’ve had my own problems with it over the years. While I was married, I just ignored it. Now, it can complicate a simple investigation.”
“You can’t help it that you’re good-looking,” she said bluntly.
Both eyebrows arched again. “Me?”
She gave him a glowering look. “Of course, you. You’re a dish, and don’t tell me nobody’s ever mentioned it to you.”
His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.
“Not me,” she said in a long-suffering tone. “Other women.”
“Oh.” He sipped more coffee, not looking at her. “Why not you?”
“I don’t want to get mixed up with a man, ever,” she said honestly.
“Abby, you’re a grown woman now...”
“My father was a vicious drunk. My mother said he seemed like the sweetest man on earth when she married him. But when the door closed out the world, he wasn’t the same man.” She looked up at him, her eyes troubled. “How do you know? You never really see people the way they actually are unless you live with them. And by then, it’s too late.”
He scowled. He hadn’t considered how badly her childhood had colored her attitudes about men. And then there had been his rampage, outside the hospital...
“I made it worse,” he said bluntly, watching the faint color come into her cheeks. “I’m not like that,” he tried to explain. “I was absolutely consumed by grief, torn apart with it. I’ve never been sorrier about anything than blaming you and Lucy for something that wasn’t even your fault. I left you both with scars.” He shook his head. “I wish there was some way to make up for it.”
“We pick ourselves up and go on,” she said simply.
“You haven’t,” he pointed out. “You’re alone.”
“By choice.” She smiled. “I have a good job, people around me who care about me, a little girl to raise, cats in the barn, a new puppy—what else do I need?” She laughed.
“Children of your own,” he said, and he didn’t smile. His dark eyes were piercing, and she couldn’t manage to look away from them.
She tingled all over. Her pulse raced. This wasn’t at all what she’d planned when she’d asked him to come home with her. She was vulnerable! It was unexpected, and a little scary.
“I have Lucy,” she repeated.
“Lucy’s a little doll,” he said, and he smiled. “But it’s not quite the same thing.”
She searched his strong face. “Did you want children?”
“Oh, yes. I wanted them very badly.” His mouth pulled down. “Debby didn’t. She was very career-minded.” He sighed. “I don’t think she meant to get married at all. We met at a festival, when she was visiting a friend, and got married two days later. She always seemed shocked at herself. She’d mentioned once that she had a sort of relationship where she worked, but she never said anything about it again after we married. It was probably a flash in the pan.” He smiled sadly. “I loved her obsessively. She only managed to get home a few days a year. There was always a seminar or a workshop or just plain work. I tried to give her the freedom she needed. I never tied her down.” He grimaced. “Maybe I should have.” He looked up. “It’s almost like I got married, but she didn’t, you know?” And it was the first time he’d ever said anything negative about his late wife, ever.
“Some women don’t settle well,” she replied. “We had an attorney in practice at my brother’s office in Denver. He got married, but his wife was out with the girls, supposedly, every single weekend while he was working on briefs. One day, she left and never came back. They had two little girls, and she just left them.” She shook her head. “I’ll never understand that sort of attitude. Parenting is a sacred trust.”
“It’s largely gone missing in our society. With both parents working, the kids are sort of raised by daycare and teachers and peers and television and video games. A goodly number of them are never taken to church, they aren’t taught manners and courtesy, their school curriculum is narrowed down to what the government thinks they need to know. Back in the old days, parents taught their kids morals and manners. Now, it’s like juvenile hall on any big city street in America. And these are the kids who’ll inherit the world.”
“God help the people who have to live in it with them.”
“That’s why I’m in Catelow,” he said. “Times don’t change here.”
She smiled. “I guess it’s why I’m here, too. I don’t like change.”
He cocked his head and studied her. She wasn’t beautiful. Her eyes were. She had a pretty figure, and he loved that long hair. But what he liked most was her big heart. She was unlike any woman he’d ever had in his life.
“Have I got a wart on my nose?” she asked, uneasy at the scrutiny.
He chuckled. “No. I was thinking that you’ve got a heart as big as your house.”
“Oh.” She flushed.
