Single Dads Collection. Lynne Marshall
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please, but Nicola forestalled him with a light touch on his arm. ‘First Daddy has to dim the light, and then you have to lie still and close your eyes.’
‘‘Kay.’
Cade dimmed the light and then stretched out beside Ella, his back resting against the headboard as he gently wiped her hair back from her forehead. Nicola settled on the end of the bed. She pulled in a breath and then calmly and quietly sang “Silent Night.”
The soft strains of the song soothed Ella and helped ease the beast raging in Cade’s own breast. He closed his eyes too and drank the song in, her voice so true it lifted the hairs on his arms.
When it was finished they sat in the quiet for a bit. Her touch on his arm had his eyes flying open. With a finger to her lips, she led him out of Ella’s bedroom, the child sleeping quietly now.
With a quick smile she swooped down and picked up the soiled bed-linen and walked away with a soft ‘Goodnight, Cade.’
He wouldn’t sleep. Not yet. He followed her into the kitchen, but she moved all the way through to the laundry and set a load going.
He put the kettle on and waited. ‘Tea?’ he offered when she reappeared.
She hesitated, her gaze sweeping across his face. Finally she nodded. ‘Something herbal would be nice.’
He made them mugs of peppermint tea, even though he didn’t like the stuff. Penance, he told himself.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ he murmured once they were both seated. ‘You tried to warn me that too many sweets would make them sick. I didn’t listen.’
She shrugged. ‘We live and learn. Don’t beat yourself up about it.’
Don’t beat himself up? He shot to his feet. ‘I made them sick! I’m supposed to protect them and look after them and …’
Her eyes widened.
‘I want to make Christmas special for them, but … damn it, I’m making a hash of everything! Those poor kids.’ He fell back into his chair. ‘They drew the short straw in the parents stakes, no mistake about it, and …’ He couldn’t go on. His throat had grown too tight.
‘Now where did I put that hair shirt?’ Nicola said with an efficient crispness so utterly devoid of sympathy it made him sit back in shock.
‘Stop being such a martyr.’
Martyr? Him?
‘I’m going to tell you a hard truth.’ She leaned towards him, her voice still crisp, but her eyes incredibly gentle and soft. ‘It doesn’t matter how fabulous you make this Christmas, it doesn’t matter how many fairy lights you put up or how many sweets and chocolates you stock up on or how many presents you buy them, it will never make up to them for not having their mother. Furthermore,’ she added when he opened his mouth, ‘you will never be able to make that up to them. Ever. No matter what you do.’
The truth of her words had the fight whooshing out of him. He ached to make it up to Ella and Holly, wanted to so badly—needed to—but …
He closed his eyes.
‘Cade?’
He opened them again. The softness, tenderness, in her eyes belied the hard truths she’d uttered.
‘Stop fighting a losing game and just focus on ensuring they feel secure in your love. Do what you’ve been doing—be fully involved in their lives, surround them with their extended family at every opportunity, and create a community here at Waminda Downs that they can rely on.’
‘There has to be more that I can do!’ He wanted there to be more that he could do.
‘There is.’
He glanced up.
‘You can stop punishing yourself for what happened between you and Fran. How are you going to help Ella and Holly come to terms with their mother’s desertion if you haven’t come to terms with it yourself?’
He had no answer to that. He wanted to rant and rail and break things, but Nicola didn’t deserve that.
‘But I can tell you that having one parent who is completely invested in your life is far better than two parents who are distant and critical. Ella and Holly at least have that.’
Too right! He was a hundred per cent behind his kids, but his heart burned as he gazed into Nicola’s eyes and the shadows there. She obviously knew what she was talking about. No wonder she’d made a family from her friends. No wonder Diane and Brad’s betrayal had rocked the foundations of her world and all she held dear.
‘Ella and Holly are lucky in lots of ways.’
He forced himself to consider her words seriously, and for the first time in a very long time he recognised their truth. ‘They’re healthy,’ he said slowly, and then grimaced. ‘At least, as a general rule they’re healthy.’ He paused. ‘They have a grandmother, an aunt and cousins who adore them. And … and Waminda is a great place to live.’
‘And they have you,’ she said with a warmth that engulfed him. ‘You should take a lot of heart from the fact that Ella is so well adjusted. Fran’s leaving would have been traumatic for her, but she’s a happy, stable little girl. She’s not too clingy, isn’t waking up in the middle of the night screaming with nightmares, and she doesn’t constantly worry where you are.’
‘We’ve been through all that,’ he admitted.
‘It seems to me she’s over the worst of it now.’
Nicola was right. He nodded. ‘This single parent gig isn’t easy. Half the time I don’t seem to know what I’m doing. And the rest of the time I simply feel clueless, but …’ He rubbed a hand across his jaw. ‘Maybe I should have more faith in Ella and Holly.’
‘And yourself.’
He met her gaze. ‘Thank you.’ He meant it.
Nicola smiled back, but her gaze had dropped to his lips and he could read the hunger that raced across her face. The same hunger surged through him.
She snapped away, and then rose and rinsed her mug. ‘I’m off to bed.’ She turned in the doorway. ‘Would you tell Jack that I won’t make my riding lesson in the morning?’
‘Sure thing. You deserve a lie-in.’
She shook her head with a low laugh. ‘The children are going to be out of sorts and all over the place tomorrow. I’d like to be close by in case they wake early.’
It struck him then that she’d be paying for his evening’s folly for the next twenty-four hours. He wanted to apologise again, only he had a feeling she’d make another hair shirt quip or call him a drama queen.
‘Goodnight, Cade.’
He settled for a ‘‘Night, Nicola. Sleep well,’ instead.
Cade winced at the dark circles under Nicola’s eyes when he saw her at lunch the next day.
All the children were whingey and whiny, hard to please, and he marvelled anew at her patience and her ability to distract them and keep them semi-amiable.
‘That girl is a saint,’ his mother murmured.
He glanced around. ‘Where’s Dee?’
‘Gone for a lie down. She’s only had a morning of this and she’s exhausted.’
He bit his lip. ‘Were the boys ill too?’
‘Unlike you, Dee wouldn’t let them have any more sweets, so no. They’re just out of routine, that’s all.’
He grimaced, suitably chastened. ‘I’ve learned my lesson,’ he promised and his mother’s face softened. He huffed out a breath. ‘I feel bad that Nicola has to deal with the fallout when the fault was mine.’
He