North Country Dad. Lois Richer
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for whatever reason, Grant wasn’t going to comfort the girls, she stepped in.
“Hey, you two. Let’s go clean up and then you’ll be ready to enjoy the breakfast your dad brought. Okay?” She lifted an eyebrow at Grant. For a moment Dahlia thought he’d refuse to let her escort them to the washroom. But before he could, the twins’ sunny smiles returned and each grabbed her hand.
“Okay.” They squeezed in front of her, heading down the aisle, chattering back and forth like young magpies. Dahlia held the door open, then glanced back at Grant. He was still standing where she’d left him, a bewildered look on his face.
Then he lifted his head and looked straight at her. She’d never seen anyone look so lost, so overwhelmed.
That’s when Dahlia made up her mind.
She was a graduate of the betrayed-by-someone-you-trust-school and she had no intention of opening herself up to that again. But someone had to help Grant, and it might as well be her.
She’d step in—but only for the twins’ sake.
When they returned from the bathroom, Grant was still standing in the aisle. Dahlia suggested Glory and Grace sit together, leaving Grant to sit in the empty seat next to Dahlia. The two girls dug ravenously into what seemed to Dahlia pitifully small and not very nourishing breakfasts, but then, she was no expert on feeding children.
“Is that what they usually eat?” she asked.
“They usually have a large bowl of hot cereal. Eva, their mother, always fed them nutritious food. I’ve tried to maintain that, but—” He sighed. “I can’t always find it.”
“Was your wife a vegetarian?” Dahlia hoped that didn’t sound nosey. “My brother was a vegan. The doctor told my mom to make sure he got enough protein. Otherwise he was always starving.”
Grant considered that for a moment. “I brought soup along for supper last night, but it didn’t seem to satisfy them. I guess you noticed they were awake several times through the night.” He sighed. “I’m new to all this.”
“How long have you been at it?” she asked curiously.
“Eva died six months ago. We’d only been married nine months.” He turned to glance at the girls. “She was so good with them.”
“She had five years to practice,” Dahlia reminded him. “You’ve only been a dad for a short while. Give yourself time.”
“I’m not cut out to be a father. I’ve always known that.” Grant’s voice grew introspective. “But I didn’t know I was going to lose Eva and have to parent on my own.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dahlia whispered thinking he was lucky to have found love even though his voice betrayed the pain of his loss.
She thought he must have loved Eva deeply. She had seen the same kind of love between some of her friends in Churchill. But though she’d often longed for it, she’d never found that special kind of love for herself. Once she’d thought she had, but even then, even when she’d worn Charles’s engagement ring, she’d never been certain he was the man God chose for her. And apparently she’d been right because Charles had quickly dumped her when she’d sold her shares in her family’s architectural firm. He hadn’t bothered to show up to say goodbye when she’d left Toronto either. No one had.
Eager to forget the past, she asked, “Was that why you came to Churchill, to get away from the memories?”
“I’ll never get away from those.” Grant glanced at the girls. “But at least in Churchill I’ll have work.”
It suddenly occurred to Dahlia that, because of his work as a counselor, Grant might be able to help with Arlen.
“Speaking of your work, can I ask you some questions about the boy I mentioned before—Arlen?”
“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be since I don’t even know him.” Grant sounded guarded.
“Since you’re a counselor, I thought you might have some insight. You see, Arlen’s very troubled. Lives is his last chance,” she explained. “If he doesn’t get his act together in the next four months, he’ll be moved into an adult facility.”
“A penitentiary?” Grant frowned when she nodded. “What did he do?”
“Recently, he threatened some people, and vandalized their property. But before that he was a good kid.” She looked at Grant closely. “I can’t explain the connection I feel to this boy. I’ve prayed and prayed about him but—” She stopped, blushed. Grant was so easy to talk to. Perhaps—too easy?
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“In your counseling—” Dahlia paused and summoned her courage. “Did you ever come across someone you thought was teetering on the edge, someone you were certain would tip one way or the other with the least provocation?”
“Yes.” Grant’s attention was totally focused on her now.
“You’ve run across someone like Arlen before?” she asked, relieved to hear he understood.
“The boy I’m thinking about became progressively more problematic for his teachers,” Grant said. “He seemed almost driven to break the law.”
At the sound of consternation from Glory, Grant excused himself and rose to mop up her spilled juice. Dahlia watched, unable to contain her excitement. Here at last was someone she could really talk to about Arlen. Laurel couldn’t discuss a client, of course, and Dahlia’s other friends didn’t sense the desperation in Arlen that she did. But Grant had not only seen it before, he’d dealt with it.
“So what did you do?”
“Talked,” Grant said. “A lot.”
The air rushed out of her lungs, taking her excitement with it. “I’ve tried talking to Arlen. He doesn’t hear me.”
“I didn’t mean you should talk.” For the first time a genuine smile lifted Grant’s lips, producing dimples in both cheeks that Dahlia found she couldn’t ignore.
“What I should have said was that he talked and I listened,” Grant corrected. “I encouraged, I tried to draw him out, I pressed him to expand on things he mentioned. Anything to keep a channel open between us.” He shrugged. “In his case, talking eventually worked. He’d been brooding about things that he’d never resolved. Once he got them worked out, he saw he had options and that gave him courage to push toward the future.”
“That’s helpful.” Dahlia nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you.”
Grant studied her. In fact, his thoughtful gaze rested on her for so long, Dahlia felt herself begin to blush.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I’m curious.” Grant paused. “Is your go-kart project specifically tailored toward this Arlen kid?”
“It’s a community project. I do one every year,” she repeated. His eyes narrowed, but he remained silent. “Say what you’re thinking.” She knew she wouldn’t like whatever was coming next.
“Maybe I made it sound easy to help that kid I told you about,” Grant said. His serious gaze held hers. “It wasn’t easy, Dahlia. It took months of work, for which I had trained. This Arlen—” He stopped, obviously uncertain as to whether he should voice his concerns.
“I am going to help him,” she said with firm resolve. “I’m going to do whatever I can.”
“That’s good. He could probably use an adult on his side. But be careful.” Grant laid his hand on her arm for emphasis. Immediately, a zing of reaction rippled through her and she caught her breath.
“You’re not suggesting I back off?”
“No.” He removed his hand. She edged away from his shoulder, hoping that would