The Little Maverick Matchmaker. Stella Bagwell
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full day had passed since the picnic, but the memory of the incident still left Drew smarting.
That afternoon, throughout the short walk from the park back to the boardinghouse, Drew had tried to lecture his son on the right and wrong things to say to a lady. And though Dillon had attempted to show a little remorse at his behavior, it was obvious to Drew that his son wasn’t a bit sorry for all his bold talk.
“Do I hear a sigh over there? Is something wrong with your breakfast?”
Drew glanced over at his cousin Claire, who was busy flipping pancakes on an industrial-sized grill.
“No. Everything tastes great, as usual. Thanks, Claire.”
“Well, you sound like something is wrong. Work getting you down?”
“I love my work. I’m even busier than I thought I would be here in this little town.”
The pretty brunette slipped the browned pancakes onto a warmed plate. “Guess Rust Creek Falls does feel tiny to you after living in Thunder Canyon,” she commented. “You must be missing your parents and your brothers.”
Drew had to admit he’d missed his parents an awful lot when he’d first arrived here in Rust Creek Falls. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d depended on them to keep Dillon corralled until he’d been forced to take on the job by himself. As for his brothers, all four were younger than Drew. Billy and LJ were both ranchers like their father, while Benjamin was a doctor. Trey managed the horse stables at Thunder Canyon Resort. All of them worked long hours, which made it difficult for the brothers to spend much time together.
“I do miss my family,” Drew replied. “To tell you the truth, Claire, I didn’t think I was going to like living in Rust Creek Falls. But the town and the people have grown on me.”
“That’s good. From what I see, Dillon has fallen in love with the place. You might have a hard time getting him to move back to Thunder Canyon.”
“I suppose I should be happy that Dillon’s gotten so close to his great-grandfather. At least he’s not sitting around crying to go home.”
Claire walked over to where he was sitting and looked down at him. “I hear something else in your voice, Drew. Do you resent the fact that Dillon has grown so close to Old Gene?”
Tossing his napkin onto his empty plate, he picked up his coffee cup. “No. I might be a little envious, but I don’t resent it. I suppose what you’re hearing in my voice is a father wondering if he’s raising his son right.”
An understanding smile on her face, Claire walked back over to the stove. “There isn’t a parent alive who doesn’t have doubts about being a good mom or dad. Where Bekka is concerned, I question myself every day.”
That was just normal parenting, Drew thought ruefully. Claire had always been a full-time, hands-on mother. Whereas he’d basically turned his twelve-month-old son over to his parents and asked them to care for the baby. At the time, he’d felt it was the only thing for him to do. Losing Evelyn had jerked the ground from beneath his feet. He could barely function or take care of himself, much less a baby who needed endless attention. Not to mention that every time he’d looked at Dillon’s little face, he’d been consumed with loss and self-blame over his wife’s senseless death.
“You don’t understand, Claire. When Evelyn died—well, I was a pretty worthless human being.”
She frowned at him. “That’s an awful thing to say about yourself, Drew. You were in shock. Anybody in your shoes would’ve been. Evelyn’s car accident was something that rarely happens. A tree toppling onto her car as she drove little Dillon to day care—it was freakish. Nothing about it made sense. I’m sure it will never make sense to you.”
Drew bit back a sigh. He didn’t like talking about Evelyn’s accident. Didn’t like remembering that it had been his turn to drive Dillon to day care that morning. Instead, Evelyn had offered to do it for him and as a result she’d lost her life. It was a fact that would always haunt him and, though six long years had passed, Drew was still living the nightmare.
“No. It doesn’t make sense,” he agreed. “To be honest, I’m still damned angry about the senselessness of it all. And I’m angry at myself for not realizing that those early years of my son’s life were the very time I needed to form a bond with him. Not now—six years later.”
Claire cast him a gentle glance. “You’re a good father, Drew. You just don’t realize it yet.”
He rose and carried his dirty plate and cup over to a big double sink.
“Something I do realize, Claire, is that you’re a good cousin,” he told her, doing his best to give her a smile. “Now I’d better get upstairs to see what’s keeping Dillon. Don’t let Grandma work you too hard today.”
Claire laughed. “I’ll take a break while she’s not looking.”
* * *
Later that morning, Josselyn was putting a stack of returned books back on their proper shelves when a group of second-grade students trooped into the library. The normally quiet room instantly came to life with the sound of tapping feet and voices that were several decibels above hushed.
“Hi, Miss Weaver. Remember me?”
Turning, she was more than surprised to see little Dillon Strickland grinning up at her. Since school had started over a week ago, this was the first time she’d seen the boy in the library.
Smiling back at him, she said, “Sure I remember you. You’re Dillon Strickland.”
His brown eyes sparkled and Josselyn couldn’t help thinking how the boy’s features resembled his father’s.
“And my dad is Drew. Remember him?”
That was something she hadn’t been able to forget, Josselyn thought wryly. Throughout the weekend, the man and his son had drifted in and out of her thoughts.
“Yes, I remember. Your dad is Dr. Strickland,” she said, and, deciding it was time to get on with school matters, left it at that. “I’m happy to see you in the library, Dillon. I believe this is your first visit since school started.”
His eyes wide, he glanced around the rows of bookshelves, and as Josselyn studied the expression on his face, she got the impression he was seeing the library for the very first time.
He swiped at the dark hair hanging near one eye. “Uh—yeah. I’ve already read all my books at home. So I wanted to get some more. Reading is fun. Real fun.”
Josselyn smiled to herself. “I’m glad you think so. What kind of books were you looking for today? Maybe I can help you find something.”
“Oh, I like all kinds.” With a look of bemusement, he peered up and down the aisle. “Do you have books about fish? I like fishing. Me and my grandpa go to the river and catch trout.”
Grandpa. Mikayla had mentioned that Old Gene and Melba Strickland were Drew’s grandparents. Could this child be referring to Old Gene, or did Drew or his ex-wife have parents living in or around Rust Creek Falls?
Josselyn was telling herself that Drew Strickland’s private life was none of her business when Dillon suddenly interrupted her thoughts.
“I should have said great-grandpa.” He spoke again. “My grandpa Jerry doesn’t live here. He lives in Thunder Canyon with Grandma. Old Gene lives here.”
“Old Gene is your great-grandpa?”
Another wide smile dimpled Dillon’s cheeks. “Yeah. But I call him Gramps. Bet you know him, don’t you? Everybody knows Old Gene. He has lots of friends.”
“No. I’ve heard of him, but I’ve never had the opportunity to meet him,” she said, trying to follow his conversation while a girl with brown braids stood a few steps away, waving frantically to attract Josselyn’s attention. “Now we’d better see about finding you a fishing book.