1105 Yakima Street - Debbie Macomber [39]
He’d already scheduled his first appointment. “I plan to, but it would mean a lot to me if you’d attend the sessions, too.”
“No way.” Her mouth thinned in patent disgust.
“Why is it so hard for you to see that I’m concerned about Rachel and the baby? If Rachel’s completely on her own, what does the future hold for her and our child?”
Jolene remained stubbornly quiet.
“I remember a time when you begged me for a brother or sister,” he said.
“I was only eight and I wasn’t smart enough to know that if I had a brother or sister I’d have a witch for a stepmother, too.”
“Rachel isn’t a witch.” He swore if she referred to his wife like that one more time, he was going to lose it.
“Sure, she isn’t one to you. The two of you were so lovey-dovey you couldn’t see what she’s really like.”
“What did Rachel do that was so terrible other than marry me?” Unable to stay seated any longer he stood and circled the table, pushing back his hair in frustration. He could imagine how difficult it must’ve been for Rachel to deal with Jolene. She’d tried everything and, idiot that he was, Bruce hadn’t appreciated the self-control it took to put up with his daughter’s barbs and insults.
No wonder Rachel had left. Bruce was as much to blame as his daughter. He’d been blind—willfully blind—and oblivious; now he was paying the price. If only he could turn back the clock…
“Dad, be reasonable.”
“Me?” he cried. “I’m unreasonable?”
“Rachel will tell you when the baby’s born. You know she will.”
“I want to be more involved in my child’s birth than just getting a phone call after the event. My place is with Rachel at the hospital, the way I was there with your mother. My child deserves that and I will not—” He pointed his finger at Jolene. He needed a moment to subdue his irritation before he could continue. “I will not let you dictate to me how I should feel about my son or daughter. It’s time you grew up and thought of someone other than yourself.”
“Me?” Jolene leaped out of her chair, her face reddening. “Me?” she repeated. “The two of you were disgusting, going to bed so early every night. I knew what you were doing. It’s repulsive. And then you had to go and do something stupid like not use birth control!”
“You need to snap out of this and accept that Rachel and I belong together.” Bruce was shouting now. His voice shook with the effort to control his anger. “This baby, boy or girl, is going to need a father who’s present and available in his or her life, just like I was for you.”
Jolene wouldn’t look at him.
“And he or she is going to need a big sister, too. You’ve said you see our child as a complication, but this is a sweet, innocent baby who’ll love you unconditionally…who’ll need your love, too. Are you so biased you can’t see that?” he asked. “Are you so coldhearted that you’d reject your own brother or sister because you’re jealous of Rachel?”
“I am not jealous of Rachel!” Jolene screamed, tears streaming down her face. “I hate her! I hate you!”
“So you hate your brother or sister, too,” he said calmly.
Jolene stamped her foot and in a rage swept her arm across the table. Dishes and serving bowls toppled onto the floor, shattering, spilling food in all directions. Then she ran out of the kitchen and down the hall to her bedroom, slamming the door. The sound reverberated through the house.
Bruce sank into the chair and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. They desperately needed help. This was more than he could deal with, more than he could handle alone. How right Rachel was to insist on a counselor…. He should have taken her seriously months ago.
He hoped it wasn’t too late.
Twelve
Grace Harding was in her library office reviewing the budget when she heard a knock at her door.
“Come in,” she called, expecting her assistant.
Beth Morehouse opened the door and stuck her head inside. “Do you have a minute?”
Grace glanced at the clock and realized it was past closing. She’d been so involved in her review that she hadn’t noticed.